


Knight of Wands

by kmj07



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 85,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmj07/pseuds/kmj07
Summary: When Violet Evans, older half-sister of Lily Evans Potter, discovered how her nephew, Harry, was being treated, she whisked him away without a second thought. Now, without a place to keep him safe, she turns to an old childhood friend, Sherlock Holmes.





	1. Chapter 1

"Come along, darling," the well-dressed woman said, tugging gently on the hand of the tiny boy with her as they hurried through the early morning traffic. "It's not much further now. See, look! There's Baker Street, where my friend lives. Just a little ways more, love."

The boy didn't reply, merely kept his little legs moving as quickly as he could, while rubbing his sleepy eyes repeatedly. But his short gait was no match for the woman's much longer legs. In fact, he stumbled several times in his efforts to keep up. The woman noticed this, and, instead of scolding him like he had expected, she swept him up in her arms. "This is better, isn't it, love?" she asked, and he answered by nodding sleepily and burying his face in her strawberry blonde hair.

The woman smiled, tightened her grip, and quickened her pace. She caught sight of the cafe she'd designated as her landmark and corrected her course accordingly. Just before getting to the cafe, she saw the simple black door with its shiny knocker. She took a breath, tucked the boy more firmly into one arm, then reached out to that knocker. Letting it fall once, she stepped back to wait, noting that her bundle was now asleep.

"Yes?" A pleasant looking older lady answered the door with a politely disinterested smile on her face.

False, definitely interested, the younger woman's inner voice insisted, but instead of listening to it, she smiled back. "I'm sorry to bother you, but does Sherlock Holmes live here? I have a… situation that requires his assistance."

"Oh, of course, dear!" the older lady effused. "Come in, come in! He's just upstairs. I'll take you to see him."

The younger woman stepped into the house and let the older shut the door behind her. It was imperceptible, perhaps, but the younger relaxed minutely, letting her guard down just the tiniest bit. Until she saw the flight of stairs she was needing to ascend while still carrying her little sleeping bundle. Groaning, but only to herself, she began to follow the older lady again.

"Sherlock'll be so glad to see you!" The older lady, who was assumed to be a landlady or housekeeper of some sort, kept up a steady stream of chatter as she climbed, much to the younger's astonished amusement. "After the boys cleaned up the whole Moriarty/Moran mess, Sherlock's just not had enough to keep his interest. A new case will be just the thing, I think. Yoohoo, Sherlock! You've got a new client, dear!"

The chatty landlady, as the younger woman had decided upon (no one cleans house looking that put together, after all), led the way into a sitting room, where a fully grown man had somehow managed to curl himself into the seat of an armchair. He looked more like an overgrown toddler, pouting as he was. "Mrs. Hudson, I told you not to bother-" He cut himself off when he saw the visitor.

"But you've got a new client, Sherlock, dear," Mrs. Hudson protested, not noticing the change in her tenant's visage.

"Mrs. Hudson, leave." His deep voice carried no venom, only impatience, but the landlady was hurt, nonetheless.

"Really, Sherlock-"

"Please," he added with a sigh.

"Fine," she sighed as well, turning to leave the room. "Good luck with this one, dearie," she added to the younger woman on her way out. "You'll need it."

Once the door closed and he could hear Mrs. Hudson's footsteps on the stairs, Sherlock spoke. "Violet Evans. It's been a while. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Violet snorted indelicately. "Sixteen years is 'a while'. Of course, it's you, the man who would accidentally starve himself if not for the intervention of others, so not terribly surprising."

"Has it really been that long?" he asked, seeming rather blase.

False, her intuition screamed again. "You know exactly how long it's been, prat. I'm putting Harry down, and then we can continue this lovely chat in the kitchen."

She gently laid the small boy on the couch and covered him with Sherlock's coat, which had been hanging haphazardly off the arm. Sherlock concealed his amusement as she chivvied him into the kitchen, then bustled around making tea, as if she lived there and not he.

"Now that Harry can sleep a bit more comfortably, we can talk. I- We need your help, Sherlock." This statement was punctuated with a sharp whistle of the tea kettle, giving her a moment to avoid speaking.

But Sherlock refused to allow her silence. "You might begin with who Harry is, and what kind of help you need," he prodded, in his impatiently know-it-all way.

"We just need a place to stay for a while. A few weeks, a month, at the very most," she promised.

"Why? Why now? We haven't spoken since we were sixteen, and now you show up, unannounced, with a small child, and expect me to allow you to stay here indefinitely?"

"Don't be such a git," she spat, slamming a tea cup on the table in front of him, though not a drop sloshed out. "Look at Harry. Deduce him. And then ask me why I'm here."

Sherlock turned and looked at the boy. Even from his seat at the table, the large, yellowish bruise was clearly visible. "He's been beaten, possibly often, malnourished, as well. Based on his size, I'd say he was two, possibly three years old, but given the extent of abuse, I'd say more like four. And he's not yours, and he's not with you under the most legal of circumstances, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"He just turned four last month," Violet smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Why are you in my flat with a kidnapped child?" he accused.

"I notice you're not calling the police, so you can't be that disturbed by it," she pointed out. When he nodded in slight agreement, her smile broadened. "Harry is Harry Potter."

Sherlock's lack of reaction caused Violet's eyebrow to raise slightly. "The Boy Who Lived?" Still no response. "The boy who caused the downfall of Voldemort?"

"Hm, I thought his name was Harvey," he said offhandedly.

"Oh, sweet Circe," Violet sighed. "Anyway, Harry is also my nephew. You do remember Lily?" He nodded absently. "Harry is Lily's son, and after her death, Dumbledore sent him to live with Petunia." A quick clench of the jaw was enough to tell him how she felt about that. "It was to protect Harry, of course, blood bonds and such, since Lily and Petunia were full sisters, and there was no way I could have taken him at that time, what with my living situation. But I went to visit them, oh, it's been a week now, and I saw Petunia's behemoth husband beating Harry simply because he forgot to take out the garbage. That was where he got the bruise on his cheek. I wasn't about to leave him there, and clearly, they didn't want him, so I took him. And now I need a place to stay for a bit while I sort out a place for us to actually live. So can we stay, Sherlock?"

The man in question shook his head in disbelief. "When have I actually been able to say no to you?"

"There was the time when I asked you to marry me," Violet quipped with a smile.

"We were seven. I thought marriage was only for old people."

"I was eight, and you still wanted to be a pirate," she corrected.

"It is still a possibility," he countered.

"Not if your brother has anything to say about it."


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Hudson came bustling in with scones a few minutes later roused Harry. "Good morning, darling," Violet murmured, going to her nephew. "Would you like something to eat?"

Harry nodded, then froze when he caught sight of the room's other occupants. "It's alright, love. This is my friend, Sherlock, and his landlady, Mrs. Hudson. They're nice."

"Oh, aren't you a dear!" Mrs. Hudson cooed, heading toward the boy.

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, bringing her attention back to him. "This is my… friend, Violet, and her nephew, Harry. They'll be staying with me for a few weeks, so you've no need for alarm at seeing them around without me. And don't you have a bridge club meeting to get to?"

"Sherlock, it's not for hours yet! And besides, someone you call friend is-"

"Thank you for the scones, Mrs. Hudson. They look delightful," Violet intercepted. "If this is what Sherlock enjoys on a regular basis, I'm surprised that he's not a blimp at this point."

"Oh, it's nothing, dear. Just a few scones, biscuits occasionally," she replied in false modesty. "But my lemon tart has won the bridge club's annual baking contest for three years in a row." The landlady was so engrossed in her telling that she didn't even realize that Violet was steering her toward the door.

"Lemon tart? That sounds delightful! I would love to try it some time," Violet hinted broadly, and Mrs. Hudson swelled under the adulation.

"Well, I do have several lemons on hand already. Do you think you'll be here for tea?"

"If you have a lemon tart, I can guarantee it."

"Then I'll get to it. Goodbye, Harry. It was nice to meet you."

A moment of silence graced the room before Sherlock broke it. "That was a masterful manipulation. I'd forgotten just how good you are."

Violet gave him a very pointed look, coupled with a jerky nod toward Harry. "How long do you think it will take Mycroft to come see who your mysterious visitors are?" she asked conversationally, putting out plates of scones out for each of the three of them.

"I expect he'll show in the next five minutes," Sherlock answered, vaguely nibbling on a scone. "The flat may have an Anti-Apparition jinx on it, but he can always Floo."

"Harry, darling, the scones are delicious. Do try one. And I suspect the Mycroft will take the car and be here in about fifteen minutes, since I had a rather good glamour charm when I approached your door. They've always been a speciality of mine," Violet replied. "He wouldn't have been able to recognize me, except for the eyes. He would get the vaguest sensation of knowing them somewhere, but the rest of me didn't match what he would know, so it would drive him mad."

"You always were spectacular at knowing exactly which buttons to push for him," he said with a wildly entertained grin. "As long as you do that several times a week, you can stay here as long as you like."

"We're staying here, Auntie Violet?" Harry's tiny voice sounded for the first time in the flat.

Violet turned to him immediately. "We are, Harry," she answered warmly. "Sherlock's been nice enough to let us stay here for a bit while I look for a place for us. Does that sound alright to you?"

Harry inspected the man in question for a moment, before nodding solemnly. "He's awfully tall," he commented.

"And just as full of himself as he is tall," Violet replied with a smile, gaining a giggle and a scowl as her reward.

"Your aunt is just as bad as I am, I assure you, Harry," Sherlock told the boy. "She never thinks she can do anything wrong."

"But she can't," Harry said emphatically. "She's brilliant! She tells th' best stories, an' always has th' best sweets, an' she gives th' best hugs. She's th' best!"

"Well, it would seem that you have Harry well trained, at least," Sherlock told Violet, who merely grinned in response.

"Harry, would you like to watch the telly? I'm sure Sherlock won't mind," she said, throwing a mischievous grin at the man.

"Oh, by all means," Sherlock said sardonically. "My home is yours, apparently."

Violet couldn't help the grin on her face as she got Harry settled in front of the telly, CBeebies playing a children's show. "Does it really have to be that inanity?" Sherlock complained.

"Harry loves it, so stuff it," was Violet's quietly growled response. "Petunia's son, Dudley, never let Harry watch what he wanted. In fact, he would watch something he hated just so Harry couldn't watch a show he wanted to. Apparently, Petunia wants him to be as big a bully as his father."

After that, Sherlock didn't complain about Harry's choices in television. He simply watched with Harry, pointing out the answers to the questions asked when the boy seemed unsure, and praising him when he volunteered the answer. Violet smiled, then began to clear the table of the scone remnants with a swish of her wand.

"Auntie Violet, you can't do that!" Harry cried desperately. "Not in front of Lock!"

She instantly knew what he meant and tried to assure him. "It's all right, darling-"

"No! It's a secret! You'll be in trouble!" The poor boy was nearing hysteria, and Violet rushed to his side, only to be beaten by Sherlock. He calmly took the boy in his lap and looked around the room.

"It's fine, Harry. Where is- Oh, here we go," he said softly, and a thin stick came rushing into his hand. "Were you worried about your Auntie using magic in front of me?" The boy nodded slowly, eyes wide and locked on the wand. "Then you don't have to worry, since I've got magic, too."

"You do?" Sherlock nodded, and Harry instantly burst into more questions. "Did you go to Higwarts? Do you have an owl? Can you ride a broomstick?"

"No, I didn't attend Hogwarts," Sherlock answered, emphasizing the proper pronunciation without being unkind about it. "I don't have an owl, since it's a tad conspicuous to have one flying from a flat in the middle of London. That's what the post office is for, anyway. And yes, I can ride a broomstick, thought I prefer other modes of transportation."

Harry's entire attention was focused on Sherlock as he pestered the man for more information about the wizarding world, completely ignoring the telly in favor of learning more about magic. In turn, Sherlock answered every question with surprising patience, never once getting sharp with the boy. Violet watched with entertained awe.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted her to a new presence. Smirking, she broke into the others' conversation. "I should have made a bet with you, Sherlock. I was right, nearly down to the second, on how long it would take Mycroft to appear."

"Who are- Violet Evans. I thought we'd seen the last of you nearly twenty years ago." The man, with his thinning black hair, impeccable three-piece suit, and black umbrella, seemed to wilt a bit at the sight of Violet, for just a moment, before puffing back up.

"It's only been sixteen years; there's no need to exaggerate, Mycroft," she said offhandedly, but there was a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth, just begging to be released.

Mycroft's mouth flattened even more; Violet was a bit impressed. She hadn't thought it was possible. "What are you doing here, Violet?"

"I believe that's between me and your brother, Mycroft," she replied calmly.

"Sherlock, what is- Are you holding a child?" Mycroft's face had gone nearly white with what seemed to be fear.

"Why, yes, I am. Say hello to your Uncle Mycroft, Harry," Sherlock said, standing with the child to join the other two. Harry didn't seem to think much of the newcomer, however, and buried his head in Sherlock's neck. Sherlock, in return, merely held the boy closer.

"'Uncle'?" was the barely audible question from Mycroft. "'Uncle'? When did you- How long have you- Does Mother know?"

The temptation to continue the charade was rather high, but Violet took pity on Mycroft. After all, the poor man's face was now a rather ashy grey. "Harry isn't Sherlock's son. He isn't even mine. He's Lily's," she said significantly.

The change in his expression was remarkably swift. It took less than three seconds for Mycroft to go from worried and slightly apprehensive, possibly even fearful, to calculating, manipulative, and just a touch awed. "Quit looking at him like that," Sherlock snarled. "He's a boy, not a tool for you to use. And now that you've satisfied your curiosity, I think it's time for you to leave." At that, Sherlock turned, still holding Harry, and proceeded to teach the boy the different parts of the skull that resided on his mantlepiece.

"I thought Dumbledore had Mr. Potter tucked away somewhere in the Muggle world," Mycroft said softly, not seeming inclined to move from his position next to Violet.

"And I thought Sherlock told you to leave," was her response. At his raised eyebrow, she sighed, relenting. "Dumbledore did send Harry to live with Petunia. She was the more logical choice, given that she and Lily were full siblings, and I was-"

"Married to a Death Eater?" Mycroft supplied helpfully.

She glared at him. "Yes, that. Anyway, with my husband's death, I was able to finally visit, and I didn't like what I saw. Petunia's horrible husband beat Harry, and when they weren't beating or yelling at him, they were ignoring him. From what I saw, and what I know of Petunia, I'd say they were trying to squash the magic out of him. He was probably only a few years shy of becoming an Obscurial," she added in a whisper.

"How could they do that? To Harry Potter?" Mycroft exclaimed, all righteous indignation.

"How could they do that to a child? Regardless of who the child is," Sherlock corrected, having deposited Harry back on the couch with Mr. Bloom's Nursery.

Mycroft nodded once, in ill humor, then asked Violet, "So what do you propose to do now? With Harry, and with the Dursleys."

Not surprised that Mycroft knew the family's name, Violet answered slowly. "I'm going to do the best I can for Harry, which unfortunately means I can't be petty and drag him through a nasty trial to give Vernon what he deserves. Unfortunately, I have to be a mature adult for Harry."

Mycroft nodded sagely. "And just what are you going to do with Harry?"

She shrugged. "I'll be looking for a place for us to live, then I'll make it the safest place possible for him. Then he's going to have the best childhood I can give him, as close to what Lily and James would have wanted for him as I can manage. And Merlin help the poor fool who tries to interfere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the second chapter! Thanks for taking the time to read, and keep an eye out for the next chapter next Sunday.


	3. Chapter 3

Violet and Harry settled into life at Baker Street quite quickly. Harry warmed up to Mrs. Hudson, after she plied him with sweets for several days. She was also rather pleased to have another female to talk to, having Violet come down for tea nearly every day. But perhaps the biggest surprise was how easily Harry accepted Sherlock. Whenever the man was at home, the boy would follow him around, plying him with questions about everything from why grass is green to how owls know where to take letters. And the man answered everything, taking it far more seriously than he did most conversations with other adults.

They had been in the flat for nearly a week when Violet came down ill. She came slowly into the kitchen, wrapped up tightly in Sherlock's dressing gown, to shakily prepare Harry's breakfast. "I'm so sorry, my darling," she sniffled to the boy, "but I'm afraid we can't go to the zoo today. Auntie's feeling absolutely ghastly."

"'S'all right, Auntie," Harry said, trying to force a brave smile.

"No, it's not, and I promise we will go, just as soon as I am feeling better, love. But how about a day on the couch with Mr. Bloom and Andy?" she asked, referring to his favorite shows on the telly.

"I'll take him," Sherlock said, looking up from one of his microscopes. "I don't have a case at the moment, and this experiment needs another forty-eight hours, so I can take Harry."

"Are you sure?" Violet asked slowly, warily. "I can take him once I'm feeling better."

"I think I can manage a morning at the zoo. How about it, Harry? Would you like to go to the zoo with Lock?" he asked, referring to himself with the nickname Harry had given him.

Harry looked from one adult to the other slowly, before nodding enthusiastically. "Then it's settled. We'll go to the zoo, while Auntie sleeps some more," Sherlock stated.

It was a mere half an hour before Harry was dressed and ready to go. He all but dragged Sherlock from the flat, barely pausing to give Violet a kiss before leaving. "Pick up some Pepper-Up for me, will you, Sherlock?" Violet called after them. She heard a vague answer and grinned a bit tiredly, then cuddled up on the couch. She was asleep before the two males were able to catch a taxi.

…

Several hours of sleep later and Violet was feeling somewhat better. At least enough to make some tea, surely, she thought. She puttered around the kitchen, narrowly dodging Sherlock's various experiments, and gathered an assortment of breakfast stuffs onto a tray. Gripping her wand, she was about to levitate the tray to the couch, but footsteps on the stairs had her hastily shoving the wand into the pocket of Sherlock's dressing gown.

"Sherlock, are you here?" a masculine voice called, followed by a graying blond dressed in a cozy looking jumper. He spotted Violet, doing a very subtle double take when he saw what she was wearing. "Who are you?" he asked, not unkindly, but still very much expecting an answer.

"I'm a friend of Sherlock's," Violet replied, not releasing the grip she had on the hidden wand. "Who are you?"

"According to Sherlock, his only friend," the man said suspiciously.

"Oh, you must be Dr. Watson!" she exclaimed, letting go of the wand in favor of holding her hand out to the man. "I've read all of your blog entries, and I must say, you've got Sherlock down exactly. And you've even managed to portray his human side, the one most people don't think even exists."

"Er, thank you," Dr. Watson said, shaking her hand awkwardly. "Sorry, you never did say who you are."

"Oh, sorry!" she laughed. "Violet Evans. Sherlock and I grew up together. Childhood best friends and all that."

"Sherlock was a child? That's still a rather frightening thought."

Violet laughed again. "Yes, he did tend to frighten most other children off, but our parents worked together, so I've known him since he was born, practically. There's not much he could do to scare me off at this point."

"I've known Sherlock for years, and he's never mentioned you," the good doctor casually said, or so he thought. Even sick, Violet understood the implied question.

"We had a bit of a row when we were teenagers. He didn't approve of my then boyfriend, and I told him to stuff it. Tea?" she asked, indicating the tray she had prepared. She got another tea cup for him even before he answered.

"Um, yes, please. So you hadn't spoken to Sherlock since you were a teen because of a boyfriend?" Dr. Watson seemed a bit confused, even as he took the tray from her slightly trembling grasp and led the way to the couch, since the kitchen table was still covered with Sherlock's experiment.

Violet smiled beatifically and poured two cups of tea. "Yes, well, I did end up marrying the boyfriend, and he didn't like Sherlock any, either, so it was a bit awkward after that."

"So you're married?" The unspoken ending of "and you're staying with Sherlock" echoed loudly in the room.

"Widowed, actually," she said before a sip of her tea.

Dr. Watson immediately looked chagrined. "I'm terribly sorry."

Violet simply shrugged. "I'm not. Do have a scone or two. Mrs. Hudson made them yesterday, and they are simply divine."

Conversation lagged for a moment, before Dr. Watson asked the rather obvious question. "Where is Sherlock? He asked me to meet him here."

"Oh, he took Harry to the zoo this morning. They should be back soon, though, unless Sherlock decided to treat Harry to lunch."

The poor doctor looked utterly befuddled. "He took Harry to the zoo? And he might treat her to lunch?"

"Her?" Now Violet was confused. "Harry is my nephew. I was to take him to the zoo today, but I came down with a cold or something and couldn't, so Sherlock volunteered."

Relief broke across his face. "Harry is also my sister's name, well, Harriet, really, so you can understand my confusion. But Sherlock actually volunteered to spend time with a child?"

"Yes. I was a bit surprised myself, but Harry's taken to him rather like a baby duck. And he's surprisingly patient, always taking time to explain anything to Harry that catches his fancy. Then again, I shouldn't be too surprised. Lily, Harry's mother, always adored Sherlock as a child, and Harry is very much like her, if not a bit quieter."

"I just can't quite believe it," he said. "Sherlock barely holds my daughter if he has to, and he's her godfather."

"How old is she?" Violet asked conspiratorially.

"Just under a year."

"That's why. He's a bit terrified of babies, thinks he might mess them up somehow, possibly break them. Always has."

"Huh, that actually makes sense."

The door slamming downstairs broke their conversation. "And it looks like the boys are back," Violet smiled.

A minute later, a dark haired blur threw itself onto Violet's lap. "There were monkeys, an' elephants, an' a really big lion! An' a big snake talked to me!" Harry blurted in a rush.

Violet met Sherlock's eyes with concern, and he gravely nodded back. "That's wonderful, darling! I'm so glad you had a good time with Lock, but you can tell me all about it later. We have a guest, or rather, Lock does."

Harry's big green eyes grew even wider upon noticing the other man in the flat, and he buried his head in Violet's neck. "Now, Harry, we talked about this. I said Dr. Watson might be here before we got home, and that he's a friend. He's not scary, and Auntie Violet and I will make sure no one ever hurts you again. Alright?" Sherlock's voice was firm, but infinitely patient, and Harry peaked his head out at the stranger.

"Hi, Dr. Wasson," the little boy said quietly, then ducked back into his nestling spot, though Violet noticed that his face was out this time. He was cautiously watching this new man.

"Hello, Harry. It's very nice to meet you," Dr. Watson replied, giving the boy a grin.

"Well, love, why don't we go into your room to play and let the men talk, shall we?" Violet asked her nephew. "Seeing as Dr. Watson did come to see Lock."

"Oh, there's no need for you to leave," the doctor assured. "I merely came to deliver the invitation to Rosamund's birthday party."

"Who's Rosemud?" Harry wondered.

"Rosamund is my daughter. She's turning one next week, and Lock here is her godfather," was his answer. There may have been a cheeky grin thrown at Sherlock with the use of his nickname.

"You have a baby?" the boy asked in fascination.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to meet her?" Harry nodded furiously, bumping Violet accidentally in the process. "Then you, and your aunt, of course, must come to Rosamund's party with Sherlock. I'm sure Mary, my wife," he clarified for Violet, "would love to meet you two. After all, any friend of Sherlock's."

"Oh, thank you, Doctor, but we couldn't possibly intrude," Violet demurred.

"Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor. If he has to bring you two, Sherlock's much more likely to make an appearance."

"I have not failed at a single one of my duties as godfather, and I'm not about to now with something as mundane as missing a birthday party," Sherlock protested hotly. "And I do think you would get on with Mary, Violet. You might find that you have a few things in common."

Violet looked at him sharply, but he didn't bother to explain. Instead, he smiled a bit mysteriously, then turned to Harry. "I believe I promised you a lesson on the violin, young man. Are you ready?"


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't until Harry had been tucked in that night that Violet had a chance to talk with Sherlock about the boys' trip to the zoo. "Did Harry really talk to a snake?" she asked quietly, somewhat concerned.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, he's a Parselmouth," he affirmed.

She frowned. "Have there ever been any Parselmouths who weren't Dark?"

"Are you really that naive? Just because he can talk to snakes doesn't mean he's automatically a Dark wizard-" he started, but Violet cut him off with a disgusted look.

"Of course not, you idiot! I was simply worried about what other people might say. I don't want Harry to have others accuse him of things because they're superstitious simpletons."

"Oh." Sherlock seemed chagrined, or at least as close to it as he ever got. "Ilvermorny's founder was rumored to be a Parselmouth, and she most definitely wasn't Dark, so there was at least one example of a Light Parselmouth."

"At least there's someone," she sighed. "But where could it have come from? The Evans family never had the ability, and the Potters weren't known for it, were they?"

"My father might know. He was rather good friends with Fleamont, after all. And he and Mother will be at Rosamund's party. I'll ask him, and hopefully he'll have something by then," Sherlock assured. "And it won't do you any good to worry about it until then," he added with a knowing look.

Violet grinned. "You know that's not something I can stop. I always worry when it comes to the people I love."

…

Violet did manage to think on other things over the next week. She and Harry visited many houses and flats all over London, and even over the country. "This one's nice," she said in a large house in the country. "What do you think, love?"

Harry simply shrugged. "'S'okay," he mumbled, looking around unconvinced.

"It's alright, darling. This one's not quite right for us, I suppose. But we'll find our home," she assured.

"I wanna go home to Lock," he countered stubbornly.

Violet laughed. "Well, it is nearly time to go to Rosamund's party, so we should probably go get ready and remind Lock about it. Sorry we're so picky," she added to Mindy, the agent showing them houses.

"Not a problem. After all, we're looking for a home, not just any old place to live, right, Harry?" she asked the boy.

"I wanna go home to Lock," he pouted again.

"Alright, love, we'll go in just a moment. The Dover house is tomorrow, isn't it?" Violet checked with Mindy.

"Yes, at ten, if that's still good for you?" the agent agreed eagerly. After all, she was due a rather healthy commission.

"Lovely. See you then." With that, Violet picked up her nephew and spun on the spot.

The nearest Apparition point to Baker Street was thankfully only two blocks away, and the Ministry worker assigned there barely glanced up at them as they appeared. "It's clear," he said, thumbing through his newspaper.

"I don't like 'Rition," Harry mumbled, eyes a little glassy.

"I know, my boy, but it's the fastest way to get from Brighton," Violet explained, emerging into the crowded street seamlessly. "And you do want to get to Rosamund's party on time, don't you?"

"I 'spose." His reply was muffled by the fact that his face was once again in Violet's neck.

The walk to Sherlock's flat was quick, and Mrs. Hudson caught them on their way up. "I was just about to call a taxi. Would you all like to share with me?"

Violet didn't pause in her ascent of the stairs as she answered. "That would be lovely. Give us ten minutes?"

"Of course, dear. Oooh, a little one's party is so much fun!" she squealed happily, then headed back into her kitchen.

Entering into 221B, they saw Sherlock attempting to wrap the present (three books and a lovely dress) Violet had picked up the day before. He looked up in time to see her smiling in vast amusement. "You do it, then," he snarled, pushing the present to her.

She simply smiled wider, and the present wrapped itself, the ribbon making a beautiful bow around it. "It's always entertaining when you forget you've got magic," she told the now pouting detective.

"I'm around Muggles far too often," he complained.

"Your best friend, landlady, and most of your employers are Muggles. You realize this is your own fault, don't you?"

He ignored her. "Harry, do you have your card ready for Rosamund?" he asked the boy, who shot off to his room to retrieve the handmade card he'd insisted on making for "Rosemud". Once he was out of earshot, Sherlock turned back to Violet. "How goes the house hunting?"

She sighed. "Awful, really. Harry hasn't liked a single one of them. Far too many of them reminded him of Privet Drive, which brought back horrible memories for him, of course. I've had to assure him every night this past week that he's never going back there. But the others, well, there's not really anything wrong with the others, most of them, anyway, but they just don't feel like… like home, I suppose."

"Why don't you just stay here? I'm rarely home, and Mrs. Hudson loves having you here. Harry's already adjusted. It's really the logical choice."

Violet was quiet for a moment, rather surprised by his invitation. "Are you sure, Sherlock? I mean, there's only two bedrooms, and it can be difficult to live with a child, and you're used to your solitude-"

"I'm sure," he interrupted. "You've slept in my bed more in the last two weeks than I have in the past two years, and it's plenty big enough for both of us in the rare occasion that I need sleep at the same time you do. Harry's not a difficulty, though occasionally you are." There was a delighted gleam in his eye as he said that. "And as for my solitude, as I've already said, I'm rarely here, so it's not much of a change for me. Now, make your nephew happy and say you'll stay."

She looked to the stairs to the upper bedroom to see Harry looking on in desperate longing. "Alright," she laughed. "We can stay with Lock."

"Yay!" the boy cried, shooting over to tightly hug Violet in excitement, only to be echoed by Mrs. Hudson in the lower staircase.

"Didn't mean to be eavesdropping, of course, dears. I just came to say the taxi's here, but oh, I'm so happy!" she cried, hugging first Violet, then Harry, then finally Sherlock. "Oh, I'm just so happy you'll be staying here! And if you need a place to put some things, in storage, like, you can use the basement. Nobody ever goes down there. Too damp."

"Except international criminals," Sherlock muttered, but thankfully, Mrs. Hudson and Harry were too busy celebrating to pay him any mind.

"We'd better be off if we're to make it to Rosamund's party on time," Violet said. "Especially since the taxi's waiting for us."

Eventually, they did make it to the Watsons' flat, where Dr. Watson ("John, please") greeted them. "Hello, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson. Mary, this is Violet and Harry Evans, Sherlock's friends I was telling you about. And this," he said, scooping up a tiny toddler with a laugh, "is the lady of the hour, Rosamunde."

Harry waved, torn between shyness with Mary and eagerness to see the baby. "It's so nice to meet you," Violet said, not bothering to correct the assumption of Harry's last name. "Apparently, Sherlock thinks we have a lot in common."

"Oh, that'll be fun! We'll have to discover what that is," Mary laughed. "You might just wish you'd never introduced us, darling," she added, teasing her husband.

"Can I see Rosemud, Dr. Wasson?" Harry asked, finally succumbing to his curiosity.

"Of course, Harry. Why don't you take her over to the toys? She loves the kitchen Lock got her for Christmas," the doctor said, putting his daughter down and settling her hand into Harry's.

Harry swelled with pride at his appointed task and slowly walked Rosamunde over to the toy corner. Mrs. Hudson followed behind, playing the role of grandmother that she had adopted for both children. The four remaining adults watched with amused awe at his gravity. "He is simply adorable," Mary said. "Is he always like this around babies?"

"I have no idea," Violet said, still watching her nephew with a slight smile. Then, at Mary and John's confused looks, she explained, "I've only just got custody of him a few weeks ago. He was with my sister's family, so I didn't get to see him much."

Sherlock snorted in disgust. "Because your sister is a selfish cow and couldn't bear the reminder of not being as special as either of her sisters."

Mary and John looked even more confused now. Violet gave Sherlock a slight glare, but gave the other two a quick explanation. "Just family drama, but Sherlock got to hear all about it when we were teens."

She was spared further explanation by the arrival of another guest. "Greg! So good of you to come!" Mary said, receiving a kiss on her cheek from the casually distinguished newcomer.

"Of course! I had to see the little princess," he said, shaking first John's hand, then Sherlock's. "And who's this lovely lady with you, Sherlock? It's not like you to bring a date to, well, anything."

Violet couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up at that. "No, he's not. And we're not together. I'm Violet Evans, an old friend of Sherlock's. He's been kind enough to let me and my nephew," here she pointed out Harry, "to crash at his flat for a while."

"I thought we agreed you would stay," the man in question countered.

The other three seemed rather surprised. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Violet. I'm Greg LeStrade," he told her, holding his hand out for her to take.

His last name caused a tiny pause in her, but only Sherlock noticed. "So you're the famous Detective Inspector! You poor thing, having to deal with Sherlock all the time," she laughed, taking his proffered hand. "You must have plenty of patience to deal with him."

Sherlock bore the teasing that came after with a grace that surprised Violet, though when she saw his hand clenching, she was about to move to other topics. But Mary beat her to it. "But, Greg, where's Molly? She said she would be coming with you."

Greg sighed. "That was the plan, but she's up to her nose in bodies right now."

"Molly's my pathologist," Sherlock murmured in Violet's ear, cluing her in before she could even ask. She then sent him a grateful smile.

"Are you sure you two aren't dating?" Greg asked. "It just seems that you're awfully cozy for two people who aren't a couple."

Both laughed. "No, just good friends," Violet assured.

"And we did spend nearly every waking moment together as children, until you left me to go to school," he pouted, in a rare teasing manner.

"You could have come if you'd pushed your mother harder, and besides, you went to Eton. One could say you left me just as easily," she poked back.

"As I recall, Sherlock, you left a week before Violet did, so there is more cause for her to say that you left her," his mother said, appearing suddenly at the door with her husband.

"Even your mother agrees with me," Violet said in triumph. "And it is so good to see you both!"

Violet was engulfed in fragile arms that transported her to her childhood for just a moment. "I am so happy to see you, my dear," Mrs. Holmes whispered, cupping her cheek softly. She greeted the others, then said, "Now, where are my grandchildren?"

"Mummy?" Sherlock questioned in concern.

"Ah, there they are!" she said, pointing to Harry and Rosamunde and ignoring her son completely. "Those two are the closest I'm ever going to get to having grandchildren. And I'm going to spoil them accordingly." She then proceeded to do just that, joining Mrs. Hudson on the floor with a grace and agility that belied her age.

"After all," the elder Mr. Holmes said with a pointed look at Sherlock, "you've met our sons. We're not likely to get grandchildren any other way." Then he too joined the children, who loved being spoiled by the three oldest people in the room.

The party was a success, as far as first birthday parties go. Rosamunde was lavished in presents, with Harry attending to her every whim, and the guests were stuffed with delicious food. And there was plenty of conversation. "I'm so glad to see you here, Violet dear," Mrs. Holmes told her in a quiet moment between the two. "I know you had your reasons, and they were good ones, but I was terribly pleased to hear of LeStrange's death."

"Me, too," Violet grinned. "After nearly fifteen years of marriage to him, it was a relief."

"I'm sure. And I know that Sherlock is thrilled to have you back in his life, even if he doesn't show it much. Did I hear correctly that you'll be staying on at Baker Street?"

"Yes, Sherlock and I came to an agreement today about it. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was a bit lonely."

"Well, you are fabulous company, and little Harry is a delight. It's a shame LeStrange didn't die years ago so you could have had Harry all along. I still can't believe Petunia would allow that horrible whale of a man to harm her own flesh and blood," Mummy Holmes said, disappointment and extreme dislike mingling with her words.

"She never could forgive Lily for having magic when she didn't," Violet replied quietly. "With me, it was a bit more understandable, since Mum and Dad were both Squibs, but their mother was a Muggle. Everyone thought I'd be the only one to go to Hogwarts."

"Well, magic would have suited her ill, with her terrible personality. And you've got Harry now, so that's all that matters."

Sherlock's arrival with a sleeping Harry interrupted them. "I think someone's worn out with all the excitement, and the guest of honor is, as well," he said, pointing out John holding a similarly sleeping Rosamunde on his shoulder. "Should we head home?"

"Oh, let me take him, Sherlock," Violet said, reaching for the boy.

But Sherlock turned away. "I'll get his coat. You get Mrs. Hudson. A taxi should be here in about three minutes."

"He's always had a soft spot for children." A peaceful smile graced Mrs. Holmes's face. "Now, you and Harry must come visit soon. And if you can bring my son, I'll make some of those biscuits you always loved."

"It's a deal! How does next Tuesday sound?"

"Lovely. And William should have the information you were looking for by then. Goodbye, my dear girl." And once again, Violet was engulfed in a frail hug that felt so like home.

Mrs. Hudson was collected, as were the coats, and goodbyes were said. "Since we're apparently staying at Baker Street," Violet told Mary with a smile, "you must come for dinner. Harry would love to see Rosamunde again."

"I think she's in love with him," Mary laughed. "And I never thought hearing my daughter be called 'Rosemud' could be so charming."

The taxi ride home was quiet, with Harry and Mrs. Hudson both sleeping. Sherlock managed to pay the cabbie and get Harry into bed, all without waking the boy once. "You really are good at this," Violet said lowly, giving Harry a goodnight kiss after Sherlock had tucked him in.

"I'm good at everything I do," said Sherlock, with his typical lack of modesty.

"Well, since you're so good, would you help me place a few more wards around here for Harry? Since we're staying," she asked, walking back into the lounge.

"I wish it wasn't necessary, but I know most of the Death Eaters think Voldemort is coming back, as do most intelligent members of Wizarding society. And even if he never comes back, there's still plenty of people who blame Harry for his downfall."

"And then there are those who blame me for plenty of their relations being in Azkaban or dead, so Harry is still in danger. And it seems as though you have plenty of enemies, as well," she pointed out.

Sherlock smiled mirthlessly. "Do you know the blood wards Dumbledore did at Petunia's?"

"I do, and a few more, lesser known ones. It's one perk of being part of the LeStrange family."

The rest of the night was spent warding the flat with nearly every protective enchantment known to Wizardkind. But they were both willing to do it to keep a certain little boy safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have a little clue to Violet's husband :) Sorry I forgot to update last Sunday, but to make up for it, I'll post a few more chapters today, until I get tired of re-editing!


	5. Chapter 5

The next Tuesday, Sherlock wasn't terribly cooperative about the idea to visit his parents, until Harry asked him. And even then, he was scowling and acting as if it were a huge hardship, but Violet knew better. "Don't worry, love," she assured Harry. "Lock just pretends to be a big grump, but he really does love his Mummy and Dad."

It turned out to be a lovely visit, full of biscuits and toys. The Holmes parents had apparently dug out Sherlock's old things, and Harry was ecstatic to see them all. "Broom!" he yelled, dragging the small, child-sized broom to Violet.

"Would you like to try it out, darling?" But the boy was already on it before the words passed her lips. And it wasn't five minutes before he was zooming around the play area, cackling with laughter.

"Well, it would appear that he is a natural," Sherlock observed.

Violet smiled. "James was a phenomenal flyer, made the Gryffindor team his second year. And Lily always loved flying, too, so Harry comes by it naturally."

"And how long has it been since you've been on a broom, Violet Evans?" Mrs. Holmes asked, eyebrow raised in the manner that had always insisted on honesty.

Violet tried to avoid it, but to no avail. "Not since Christmas of Fifth Year," she finally sighed. "It's not the done thing for a Pureblood girl, and I always had to play the part."

"There's no part to play now, and Sherlock's old Nimbus has just been gathering dust, probably since the last time you rode it," Mrs. Holmes hinted heavily.

"And Harry really needs someone to teach him the finer points of riding a broom. You're his best option, since Sherlock hasn't ridden in years. And he never liked it, anyway," Mr. Holmes added, ignoring his son's slight glare.

"Alright, I give," Violet laughed. "I'll take Harry flying."

Sherlock's old broom was found, and Violet and Harry spent the next hour going over the finer points of flying. "Isn't this wonderful, Harry?" she asked the boy in front of her.

"I's wonnerful!" he cried, flinging his arms out and laughing more freely than she'd ever heard him. She couldn't help but join in.

All that flying seemed to tire Harry out, though, and the poor boy nearly fell asleep in his tea. Sherlock carried him to his old room without comment, then returned to see his mother smirking up at him. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You're simply adorable, that's all," she said happily.

"Violet, you wanted to know if the Potters had a history of being Parselmouths," William started, cutting off Sherlock's anticipated pout. "As far as I can tell, going back all the way to the twelfth century with Linfred of Stinchcombe, there have never been any Potters able to talk to serpents. And given my friendship with Fleamont, I feel confident that he would have said something to me about it at some point. Also, just to be thorough, I checked the Evans line, but I couldn't find anything there, either. Not that I really expected to find anything, since your family isn't pureblood. But it doesn't seem that little Harry inherited his Parseltongue from either of his parents."

His phrasing made Violet pause. "Where might he have inherited it? In your opinion," she clarified, after seeing his trademarked eyebrow quirk.

William sighed. "I'm afraid that Voldemort may have accidentally passed some of his powers onto Harry when his attack failed to kill him."

Shocked silence fell over the occupants of the room. Even Sherlock had no witty rejoinder. But then Violet burst out with, "I thought I was done with that bloody idiot! At least for a while!"

More discussion of the subject revealed no great secrets. It only seemed to further aggravate Violet. And it wasn't until later, back at Baker Street, after Harry had gone down for the night, that she finally was able to calm down. Due to Sherlock, of course.

"You know worrying about it won't make it any better," he told her, head bent over one of his microscopes.

"Thanks so much, Sherlock," she said with as much sarcasm packed into each syllable as possible. "I feel so much better now."

Sherlock straightened up, looking her square in the eye. "If Voldemort wants to get Harry, he will have to get through practically every ward known to wizardkind, and then there's the two highly skilled and incredibly motivated individuals behind that. He will only ever get to Harry over my dead body."

For one brief moment, the vision of a tall body, topped with black curls and a signature scarf, flashed through her mind. But then her practicality won through. "You're right," she sighed, feeling her body sag just a bit in relief. "And besides, nobody in the wizarding world knows we're here, outside of family."

A whoosh and a blaze of emerald flame came from the fireplace, followed by a tall, rather elderly wizard. "And apparently Dumbledore," Sherlock mumbled.

"Professor," Violet greeted coolly. "What brings you here?"

"I've recently been informed that Harry Potter is no longer with your sister on Privet Drive," he replied.

"Which roughly translates into his spies finally caught on," Sherlock added, throwing his normal snark into the conversation.

"I did have someone in the neighborhood to keep an eye on him," Dumbledore agreed. "Arabella Figg lives one street over, and she has looked after the boy from time to time at her house, as well as generally watching over him."

"Then she must be blind to have not seen the way Harry was treated," Violet shot back.

The old man exhaled deeply. "The Dursleys may not have loved Harry like I'd hoped-"

"Loved Harry?!" Violet was incredulous. "My sister and her family don't even understand the concept of love! They treated him worse than a Pureblood's house elf."

"A few chores never hurt a child," Dumbledore placated.

"A few chores would have been light compared to what they made him do. He was cooking entire meals, and then hardly allowed to eat even the tiniest portion of it. He was forced to to tend the entire garden, front and back, all by himself, in all sorts of weather," she explained, forcing herself to not explode. After all, it wasn't Dumbledore's fault that Petunia was so horrible to Harry.

"And then there's the little fact of Dursley beating Harry for even the slightest infractions," Sherlock added, his calm voice belying the deadly anger beneath.

Dumbledore blanched at that. "He beat him?" he whispered.

"The left of Harry's face was entirely covered with one big bruise when I went to see them," Violet confirmed. "And while I was there, Vernon hit him for forgetting to take the garbage to the bins."

The perpetual spark in the wizened old man's eyes disappeared completely as he sank into a chair. Sherlock's chair, but he didn't seem cognizant of Sherlock's squawk of complaint. "I had no idea," Dumbledore whispered. "Arabella said Harry was often working in the yard, and usually alone, but never anything about abuse. I never would have-"

"Left him on a doorstep at night in November?" Sherlock finished for him.

"I enchanted the blanket to keep him warm, and safe," Dumbledore defended.

"But you still left him with that horrible family!" Sherlock pushed.

Violet placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "We've got him now, and we can't change the past. Besides, there was nowhere else for Harry to go at the time, since I was married. But what's done is done, and there's no changing it. What matters now is that Harry is safe, and loved."

"I'm afraid I can't let you keep him, Mrs. LeStrange," Dumbledore said.

"I beg your pardon?" Violet's words may have been polite, but her tone was icy.

"You know what most of wizarding society thinks of you," he began, sounding rather apologetic. "They will most assuredly not approve of you being the guardian of The Boy Who Lived."

"I don't give two figs what they think of me, or of The Boy Who Lived," she snapped back. "I care about Harry, and his well-being. I am his closest living relative in the wizarding world, and I will not give him up to be raised as some object of hero worship. Or worse, to someone thinking he's the next Dark Lord. No, he is staying with me and Sherlock, here at Baker Street."

"The Wizengamot will-"

"Do nothing," Sherlock said, his smile dark. "Between Mycroft and Violet's Aunt Amelia, the paperwork has already been approved and filed. And how would it look if everyone's favorite benign headmaster were to take a small child from those who love him most? Especially if that child were The Boy Who Lived?"

Dumbledore considered their words. "Might I add a few wards to help keep him safe?" he asked at last.

"What would you suggest?" Sherlock asked haughtily. At Violet's reprimanding look, he added, "To make sure nothing counteracts what we've already done."

After a brief discussion, they determined that the wards Dumbledore had in mind had already been placed, and there were several he hadn't even heard of. "I've done extensive research on wards," Violet said modestly. "Figuring in my familial relation to Harry, which isn't as strong as Petunia's, admittedly, and my feelings for him, the blood wards should be as strong as they were at Privet Drive."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Privet Drive would have been the perfect place, but this will have to do."

"Yes, it would have been perfect, except for the bit about them hating Harry and abusing him," Sherlock said scathingly.

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock," Violet snapped. "You're not helping."

"No, he's right," Dumbledore agreed. "I put too much faith in assuming Petunia would love him. Clearly, I was wrong."

Violet's glare stopped the sarcastic remark Sherlock was about to make. "At least we've got him now," she said instead.

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Mrs. LeStrange, as always," the professor said, standing and raising a hand to her.

"Ms. Evans, please. I don't need a reminder of Rabastan," she protested.

"I see." The twinkle was slowly coming back to his eye. "And Mr. Holmes, it's been… enlightening to meet you at last."

Sherlock huffed and turned away, refusing the outstretched hand. "You know the way out," he said, abruptly going back to his experiments now that talk of Harry was over.

"Yes, he's always like that," Violet told the mildly amused older man. "Just be glad he never had a chance to terrorize Hogwarts."

"I think a few things would have been different if he had," he said, smiling, before heading to the fireplace. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts!" And with another whoosh of emerald flame, he disappeared.

"So that's Dumbledore. Not impressed," Sherlock said, head still bent to the microscope.

"You're just upset because he wanted to take Harry away," she observed correctly. "But no one is going to take him from us. Not Dumbledore, and certainly not Voldemort."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers ahead. Physical and mental abuse takes place, and sexual abuse hinted at. But it's sadly necessary.

"You've betrayed us," came the hissed accusation.

"You betrayed our family," cackled another voice.

"Violet, my dear, you thought you could get rid of me so easily." A third voice was low, husky, and dreadfully, intimately familiar. "How could you do that to me, my love? Did I not give you anything you could want?"

A flash of green light had Violet flinching reflexively, but it also briefly illuminated three people walking toward her. "I adored you, my love," Rabastan said, sounding much closer. "I showered you with gifts, treated you like a queen."

"And you thought you could betray us," Rodolphus said incredulously.

Bellatrix laughed, as though it was the most hysterical, preposterous idea she'd ever heard. "Us, the Dark Lord's most trusted servants."

"But you've never actually escaped us," Rabastan's voice sounded in Violet's ear at the same time she felt an arm pulling her tight against his body. "You'll always belong to me, my love. Your little happy life you've been living has all been a dream. Let me show you the reality."

Harry and Sherlock were suddenly in front of her, spotlighted against the black all around them. Both were bound and gagged tightly, and tears streamed silently from Harry's wide eyes. Terror was etched across his face as he struggled toward Violet, but the bindings kept him from moving. Worse was the sight of Sherlock, head lolling unconsciously to the side as blood gushed down the side of his face. His arm also sported blood from a gagged looking tear in the flesh.

"What have you done to them?" she screamed, thrashing in Rabastan's arms, but they were steel bands around her.

"We've just been playing with the little Mudblood brat and the blood traitor," Bellatrix cooed, caressing Harry's face mockingly. "And then maybe we'll find your filthy Muggle friends when we're done here."

"Don't touch them!" Horror clutched Violet's heart as she continued to writhe in an attempt to be free. "Don't hurt them!"

"Oh, but we've just been waiting for you to get the show started," Rodolphus grinned, throwing an arm around Sherlock's shoulders in a grotesque mockery of friendship.

"You know you'll enjoy it," Rabastan whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her skin with every word. Revulsion roiled in her stomach, renewing her efforts to get away. "And then, when we're done with them, it'll be your turn, my love. I've missed you so." The dangerous tone of his voice contradicted his words.

"Please," Violet begged. "Do what you want with me. I don't care. I'll even enjoy it. But please, don't hurt them. Please, just let them go."

Rabastan seemed to consider her words for a moment, head still buried in her hair. He brushed a kiss up her neck, causing a shudder of disgust and loathing to rip through her. He chuckled. "No, I don't think so. See, I've got you just where I want you, and I can do whatever I like to you and your little pets. So let the games begin."

Bellatrix's unhinged giggle filled the air, just before she shrieked, "Crucio!" Harry's little body jerked spastically, and his eyes rolled back from the excruciating pain.

"NO!" The scream ripped itself from Violet's throat, but it did no good.

"Violet! Vi, wake up!"

A hand was shaking her, and she suddenly realized she was free. Her hand struck out, trying to get away from whoever was trying to torture her next.

A dull thud and a muffled "Merlin, Vi!" brought her back to her senses. Violet's eyes flew open, taking in Sherlock's room (that she now shared with him), and the man on the ground, clutching his nose. "You've got impressive aim, even with your eyes closed," he muttered, trying unsuccessfully to stem the blood flowing from his broken nose.

"Oh, Salazar, I'm so sorry, Sherlock! Here, let me fix it," she said, frantically looking for her wand.

"You don't need your wand, woman," he growled.

"I need my wand for this, unless you want a crooked nose!" she shot back, somewhat hysterically. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and simply summoned her wand for her. "Thank you. Now, hold still," she warned, pointing her wand at him. "Episkey!"

"Thank you," Sherlock said, now clearly. With a wave of his hand, he cleaned the blood away. "Now, do you want to talk about that dream you were having?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Violet replied, somewhat stupidly.

"No, of course not. You always punch someone when they wake you, not to mention always screaming bloody murder in your sleep," he answered sarcastically.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said smally, curling in on herself.

But Sherlock didn't listen. Instead, he sat on the bed next to her. "Was it LeStrange?" A frightened squeak was his answer. He tried to wrap an arm around her, but she only moved away. "What did he do to you, Vi?" he asked softly. She didn't respond more than a noncommittal shrug. "He did something. I know it, Vi. You can't hide it from me. You used to be such an affectionate person, constantly touching someone. You would throw yourself into my lap, for Merlin's sake. Now, the only person you touch is Harry, who needs to be smothered. But if someone touches you, you flinch away. It's minute, but I can see it. And it's worse if you can't see them before they touch you. Now, tell me. What happened, Vi?"

In the most dead voice he had ever heard from her, she began. "I was an ornament, Sherlock, to be taken out and played with at Rabastan's pleasure. He wanted a dutiful wife, and that's what he got. I bowed to his every whim, for fifteen years. Oh, of course I rebelled in little ways here and there, but always disguised as playful teasing. But he always paid me back for each and every one." She shuddered in remembrance. "Can you imagine that, Sherlock? Every touch for fifteen years was from someone I despised. Someone who made my skin crawl just thinking about it. And there was rarely gentleness, or kindness. Rabastan took whatever he wanted, without thought for anyone else's feelings. So yes, touch is a bit of a sensitive issue for me."

"If he weren't already dead, I'd kill him." The words were said in such a matter of fact tone that Violet had to look in his eyes to see the rage behind them.

"But he is dead, so I don't have to worry about you being thrown in Azkaban," she said, trying for an upbeat tone. She failed, miserably, but it was the effort that counted.

"You know, I think Azkaban might be the only prison in England that could actually hold me," Sherlock said, his usual arrogant manner back in place.

…

Several hours later, as it was a more acceptable hour to be up and about, Violet pulled Sherlock's dressing gown around her and made her way into the kitchen. There was a cup of tea waiting for her on the table, next to the latest issue of The Daily Telegraph. She skimmed through the paper, slowly sipping her tea as she felt the night's tension gradually leaving her. Sherlock must have added a touch of the Calming Draught, she mused, not minding his interference.

Harry soon joined her, giving her a sleepy hug. "Good morning, my darling," she effused, adoring the sight he made with his Thor pyjamas and messier-than-usual hair. After all, a sleepy Harry was a far cry better than a terrified Harry, as her dream had shown her.

Violet got him a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and he took it to the telly. After all, it was Saturday, the only day he was allowed to eat in front of the telly, and he never forgot. She smiled, then went back to her tea and paper, though no articles truly held her interest. It wasn't until the society pages before an article caught her eye.

"Grunnings Executive Caught With Pants Down" read the headline, and she nearly choked on her tea at the picture. There was her whale of a brother-in-law, wrapped around a woman who most definitely wasn't her sister, one who looked to be much younger than Petunia. The article was rather entertaining to read, all about how Vernon had been fired for casting a bad light on the company, and the gossip in the neighborhood of how Petunia hadn't stepped out of the house in days.

Sherlock came into the kitchen, fully dressed, just as she was finishing the article for the second time. "Thank you, Sherlock," she said softly.

"For what?" he asked, seemingly confused.

Violet knew better, however. She shook the paper meaningfully, and he couldn't feign confusion any longer. "You said you had to be a responsible adult for Harry's sake. But no one's ever accused me of that. And the whale made it all too easy for me. It was almost as if he were begging me to do it."

Standing up with a grin, Violet said again, "Thank you." Then, very determined, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before heading to take a shower.

A tiny surprised, yet pleased, smile curled just the very corners of Sherlock's lips. Baby steps, he reminded himself. Baby steps.


	7. Chapter 7

Halloween was just a week away, and Violet was a bit concerned. Harry hadn't shown even the tiniest inkling of interest in trick-or-treating, hadn't even mentioned candy or costumes. It was as if the biggest holiday for children didn't even register for him.

"Harry, darling," she began slowly. "What would you like to be for Halloween?" The boy stared blankly at her, so she pressed on. "You know, what would you like to dress up as?"

"No one cares what the hander-outer dresses up as, Auntie," he replied in a chiding voice.

Her heart broke just the tiniest bit more for him. "Oh, my darling boy, you don't have to hand out the candy," she explained. "Mrs. Hudson will, I'm sure, but you don't need to. Don't you want to go out trick-or-treating yourself?"

"I can go?" The wonder and awe at the simple suggestion caused tears to threaten for Violet.

"Of course you can," she told him, gathering him in her arms.

It didn't take long for Harry to decide on a costume after that, which prompted a quick shopping trip. "Do you think Lock will do it with us?" he asked anxiously, clinging to Violet's hand as a large bag hung off her other arm.

"Absolutely," she assured. "If you ask him to do it, he will, without a doubt."

…

Halloween morning didn't dawn. Instead, it creeped through fog, tricking people into thinking it was still night. But then, for people like Violet, they'd never gone to sleep at all, so night or day, it didn't matter.

Harry came bounding into the kitchen early, eagerly anticipating the day. His anticipation was dampened, however, when he saw Violet's face. "Auntie Vi, why are you sad?" he asked, climbing into her lap.

Her arms wrapped automatically around him as she considered what to say. "Well, my darling, do you remember how I said that I am your mummy's oldest sister?" He nodded, and she smiled to cover the twinge that came with thinking about her darling baby sister. "And I told you that your mummy and daddy were killed when you were just a baby, that's why you had to live with… with the Dursleys."

"An' you were living with the bad man an' he wouldn' let you have me," he helpfully supplied.

"Yes," she laughed once before sobering again. "Well, the bad man who killed your mummy and daddy came to your house on Halloween. That's when they died, three years ago. So it's a tad hard for me every Halloween morning, because I loved your mummy very much and I miss her."

Harry was quiet for a moment. When he did speak, he was very quiet. "Do you think she misses me, where she is, I mean?"

Violet ruthlessly squashed down the sob that was threatening. "I know she and your daddy are missing you very much."

"I think I miss them, too," he said. "Did she have red hair?"

Her heart skipped a bit. "She did, but not like mine. It was dark red, no blonde at all."

"And did Daddy have glasses, like me? I think I remember he had glasses."

"He did. In fact, he looked rather a lot like you. His hair stuck up everywhere, just like yours does."

"So I don't look like Mummy?"

"Not too much, except your eyes."

"My eyes? But my eyes look just like yours," said the little boy in extreme confusion.

"Exactly," the aunt replied with a smile. "Lily, your mummy, had eyes that looked just like mine, and that's where you got them from."

"And your mummy and auntie got them from their daddy, who had red hair and green eyes, too," Sherlock added, suddenly coming in from the case he'd been working.

"You knowed my mummy, Lock?" Harry cried excitedly.

"I did, and you remind me very much of her when she was your age," he told him.

They spent the next half hour happily telling stories from Lily's childhood, with Harry soaking up every word in wonder. Then, Violet had an idea, though she hesitated, not entirely sure it was a good one.

"What is it, Auntie Vi?" Harry asked, seeming concerned at her sudden silence.

That made up her mind. "Would you like to see them, Harry? Your mum and dad," she asked.

His eyes grew wide, and she recognized her mistake. "We can't do anything to bring them back, darling. I'm so sorry. I meant to see their graves, where they were buried."

"Are they still there? In the dirt?"

"Their bodies are, Harry," Sherlock explained gently. "But their souls, what made them them, are gone. But it is nice to visit their graves sometimes."

"I like to talk with them," Violet added. "They can't talk back, not really, but sometimes, it almost seems that, when I've really needed to talk to Lily, I feel that she's been able to let me know that she's listening and watching over me still."

"Can we go?" Harry asked softly.

"Of course. Go get your coat," Violet instructed warmly.

Fifteen minutes later saw the three of them entering the graveyard of Godric's Hollow. "My mummy and daddy are buried here, as well," Violet explained. "And Mum's dad, and his parents, all the way back to the very first Greengrass."

"Are they my cousins?" Harry asked, nose scrunched adorably in confusion.

She laughed. "No, love, they aren't. They would be your great-grandparents, except my mum died when I was about your age, and my dad married your mummy's mum, and they had Petunia and Lily. Does that make any sense?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"You'll understand when you're older," Sherlock promised. "But this is where your grandfather is buried," he added as they came to a stop.

"So this is your dad," Harry said to Violet, clearly looking for clarification.

She nodded. "Yes, Edward Evans was my father, and Phoebe Greengrass Evans was my mother."

Harry was quiet for a moment, allowing Violet to pull her wand out of her pocket. "It's alright here," she assured Harry, cutting off his worried exclamation she could see coming. Then, drawing her wand in a circle, Violet caused a beautiful wreath of her namesake on her parents' headstone.

"Hello, Mum, Dad," she said quietly. "This is Harry, though you already knew that, I'm sure. But I thought you might like to meet him."

Harry stepped a bit closer to Violet, slipping his hand into hers. "Hello. You're my grandparents. Auntie Vi and Lock have been taking care a me. Baker Street is th' best! There's a skull, and Lock says it used to be a person. Is that what you look like now?"

Harry spoke with the headstones for a few moments more, occasionally stopping as if listening for a response. Then, after a rather comprehensive report of Baker Street and its inhabitants, Harry said, "Bye, Gran'ma and Gran'pa. I'll visit again, but it's time to visit Mummy and Daddy now. Bye!"

Violet and Sherlock had been standing back, letting him have his conversation in private. But at his words, they both stepped forward, one on either side of him, to take his hands. "Your mummy and daddy are just a row over," she told him, directing him to the left.

"Hey, Lils, James." This time, Violet's voice was rather more noticeably choked. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you, and I couldn't take Harry. I'm so sorry I failed you."

Harry wrapped his little arms around her legs as tears started falling down her face. "Don't cry, Auntie. I'm alright, I promise." The poor little boy was almost distraught trying to console her, and she managed to pull herself together at least enough to reassure him.

"I know you're alright, love. It's just- I made a promise to your mum and dad to take care of you, and I failed them. And you," she said, smoothing his hair back from his face.

"But you couldn't!" he said fiercely. "You were with the bad man, and he wouldn't let you get me. It's not your fault!"

"He's right," Sherlock added. "There was nothing you could have done at the time, and you went to Harry the moment you could. I think Lily would agree that you've fulfilled your promise."

"Hi, Mummy. Hi, Daddy. I miss you, and so does Auntie Vi. You've got to tell her that she kept her promise 'cause she's sad and I wan' her to be happy. I need you to help her be happy again."

The boy's words seemed to echo in the old churchyard. Violet felt frozen as Harry cocked his head to the side, seeming to listen intently to someone. He nodded once, then again, then broke out in a grin. "Alright! Auntie Vi, Mummy says you've got to be happy for her... sake, and to fergive yourself. And Daddy says you didn' do anythin' wrong, but you have to help Pafoot. No, Padfoot, yes, help Padfoot. And Mummy says she loves you so much."

Both adults stared at him. "How did you know that, Harry?" Sherlock asked, his whole body focused on the answer.

"Mummy and Daddy told me. Auntie Vi said they sometimes talk to her, but they said she doesn't listen as much as she should," he said simply.

Violet knelt in front of her nephew heedless of the damp grass soaking her knees. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for listening." She then wrapped him up in her arms, basking in the loving feeling that engulfed her.

A warm breeze blew through the churchyard, setting the few leaves left in the trees alight. They skipped happily, dancing through the headstones and around the three people, ruffling their hair. They carried a scent of lilies, giving Violet a bittersweet pang. "Thank you, Lily, and you, too, James," she whispered. "I'll take care of him, I promise."

The breeze ruffled her hair one more time, and a clear, bell-like laugh was heard. And Violet felt peace for the first time in over fifteen years.

"Mummy and Daddy need flowers, too, Auntie," Harry reminded. So, with a laugh, Violet complied, drawing a wreath on their headstone, this time of lilies.

…

Once back at Baker Street, Harry wanted to know more about his parents., so they spent the rest of the morning and all of the afternoon engrossed in stories. "I can show you pictures, but it will have to wait for another day," Violet promised later. "I don't have them here. And I don't have many of your dad, but I can write to their friends. We'll see what they can dig up, alright?"

Harry sighed in resignation, before perking up again. "Auntie Vi, who's Padfoot?" At her confused look, he explained exasperatedly, "You know, Padfoot. Daddy said you need to help Padfoot."

She thought hard, but came up with nothing. "I don't know, but I can ask your dad's friend about it when I ask for the pictures. Will that be alright?"

"Fine, but we need to hurry. Daddy sounded sad about Padfoot," Harry said, very matter of fact.

"Why don't you help me write the letter now, then?" she suggested, summoning paper and a pen. The letter was written, and Sherlock was reluctantly employed to take it to the post office.

When he came back, Violet was finishing the final touches on Harry's costume. "Yours is on the bed," she told him, pinning the clasp to Harry's cape at last.

"My what?" Sherlock asked stupidly.

"Your costume, silly!" Harry answered happily. "I'm gonna show Mrs. Husson!" He scampered down the stairs to show the landlady before Sherlock could even come up with a response.

"I have a costume?" he asked Violet imperiously.

"Yes, you do," she replied gleefully. "This is the first time Harry has ever gone trick-or-treating, and he wanted you to go with."

"Fine," Sherlock caved, with much less fuss than was expected. But then again, that was why Violet had worded it the way she did. "Where are we to go for this ridiculous ritual?"

"New Scotland Yard," she said, grinning even more. "Mary told me they have a party for the kids every year, somewhere safe for them to go. They've got trick-or-treating, then a whole party with balloons and cake and games. Harry will love it."

"And I must go in costume?"

"Wait 'til you see what Harry picked for us all before you judge. I think your sense of humor is rubbing off on him far too much."

A short "Ha!" greeted her ears once Sherlock saw what he was to wear. "I approve, wholeheartedly," he said, through the open door.

"Well, for some reason, he didn't go for the deerstalker," Violet teased, "so we had to go with this. Now, hurry up in there. I still have to get ready myself."

Soon enough, the two adults of 221B made their way downstairs to collect Harry. "Oh, aren't you lot adorable?" Mrs. Hudson cooed. "You're just the cutest little coven I've ever seen!"

"And just how many covens have you seen, Mrs. Hudson?" Violet teased her.

"Oh, go on, you! Have fun at the party, and take lots of pictures of little Rosie for me!" she said, pushing them toward the door.

It was a bit of a hassle to get into the taxi with their pointed hats, but the look on Sherlock's face of absolute, pure satisfaction in their inside joke made it worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've since been informed that Halloween isn't that big of a deal in Britain, but this was just too cute to change, so excuse my American Halloween-loving heart!


	8. Chapter 8

Once at New Scotland Yard, the Baker Street trio found the three Watsons fairly quickly. "Oh, aren't you just the cutest witches ever?" Mary laughed.

"Me and Lock are wizards," Harry corrected sternly. "Auntie Vi is a witch."

"Right, very sorry," she said, obviously holding back another laugh at his severity.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Sherlock asked, looking miserably confused.

"Can't you tell? I'm you, the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes," John said, grin threatening to split his face.

"Yes, he's even got the deerstalker hat and everything," Violet added, loving the murderous look that appeared on Sherlock's face.

"And I'm Dr. Watson, Sherlock's intrepid blogger," Mary piped up. "It helps that his jumpers are so very cozy. I wish I had realized this sooner. You might not be getting this back, darling."

"And Rosemud is a princess!" Harry exclaimed, completely focused on his tiny friend in her father's arms.

"Princess Rosemud," Mary agreed with a smile.

"Harry, why don't we get started on the candy?" Sherlock asked the boy, petulantly ignoring the rest of the adults to take his hand.

"Rosie and I will come with," John said happily, leaving the two women together.

"Come on, they've got some adult beverages over here," Mary informed Violet, leading her to the refreshments. "And by adult, I mean not juice boxes. There's some soft drinks around here somewhere."

They each got a drink, then set back to watch the men taking the children around. "Isn't Rosie a bit young for candy?" Violet asked. "I'm still new at this parenting thing, so I have no idea."

"She is, a bit. We'll give her a piece here and there, but it's really for us. That's the beauty of having such a small child. Any candy they get really goes to the parents. It's called the candy tax."

Violet laughed. "I love it. I might have to impose it with Harry."

"If I know that boy, he'll be giving you half of it without you having to ask. He's such a sweetheart," Mary sighed.

"He is," Violet agreed warmly. "Even with all that he's gone through, he is still so kind."

Mary was dying to ask what all that entailed, but knew better than to ask. And then someone caught her eye, distracting her. "Oh, there's Molly. You haven't met her yet, have you?"

"Sherlock's pathologist? No, not yet."

"Oh, come on then. She's lovely. Molly!" Mary called, dragging Violet behind her as she made her way to the other woman.

Molly, who was a rather small woman, was dressed as what appeared to be the bride of Frankenstein. "Your costume is utterly brilliant, Molly," Mary greeted her.

"I thought it was a bit appropriate," Molly said, self-consciously tugging on the wraps around one arm as she took in Violet's tiny skirt and long exposed legs.

"Your makeup is fantastic, and your hair! Did you do it all yourself?" Violet asked, rather impressed since she knew Molly was a Muggle.

"Yes, I did," she answered, still self-conscious, and glancing at Mary often.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Mary exclaimed. "Sorry, girls, Violet, this is Molly Hooper, the best pathologist at St. Bart's, who has to put up with Sherlock and John on a regular basis. And Molly, this is Violet Evans, Sherlock's… friend."

"Oh, you're the one living…"

"Yes, I'm living with Sherlock," Violet grinned. "My nephew, Harry, and I moved in a few months ago. In fact, he's over with Sherlock getting candy right now."

"Oh, but isn't the flat a bit small for the three of you?" Molly asked, trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant.

Violet's heart gave a pang. It was obvious that Molly was infatuated with Sherlock, but he was never going to reciprocate. "Yes, well, Harry has John's old room, and Sherlock's is big enough for the two of us."

"Oh, right, of course," Molly stammered, looking a mix of uncomfortable and heartbroken.

"Mary, did you notice DI LeStrade? I don't think he's been able to take his eyes off of our Molly here since she came in tonight," Violet said conspiratorially.

"That's his usual look," Mary confided. "He always has his eyes on her. Even at my wedding, he barely glanced at me before keeping his eyes fastened on Molly."

"But I was with Tom then," she protested.

"Which is why he never did anything, but he's always looking," Mary assured.

"Why don't you go talk to him?" Violet encouraged. "After all, he's looking particularly dashing tonight. And his Dracula goes perfectly with your costume. You've both got that old Hollywood monster theme."

Molly gnawed on her lip for a moment, before visibly pulling herself up. "I think I will." She started walking away, then turned back quickly. "It was so nice meeting you, Violet, and always good to see you, Mary."

"You, too. Now go flirt," Mary laughed.

Violet and Mary watched her go to Lestrade and begin to awkwardly flirt with the man. Poor LeStrade seemed to be completely dumbfounded that she was flirting with him, even though she did keep sneaking glances at Sherlock. "Bless you, Violet," Mary breathed a moment later. "None of us knew how to break it to her that Sherlock was never going to be interested in her."

"And Sherlock would just rip her to pieces if they ever dated," Violet replied. "It would be an awful situation all around."

"Whereas Greg will treat her like a princess. He already worships the ground she walks on, even if she's been too blind to realize it."

Violet's response was cut off when she heard a shrill voice nearly yelling, "What idiot left a child with the freak?"

Her head whipped to where she knew Harry and Sherlock to be, and she saw a wiry woman looking at Sherlock in disdain. Violet was moving before she consciously thought about it, with Mary on her heels.

"You leave Lock alone!" Harry cried from his vantage point in Sherlock's arms. "Lock is smart an' nice an' you're mean!"

The woman looked affronted. "Don't tell me you've spawned a mini freak, Holmes."

"How dare you call either of them a freak," Violet said, sweeping onto the scene with all the grace and poise she'd ever needed as a Pureblood's wife. Mary was right behind her, and she saw John step to Sherlock's other side.

"And who are you? You can't possibly be involved with Holmes. He can't have gotten that lucky," the woman laughed.

"Sherlock happens to be my oldest friend, and Harry is my nephew," Violet seethed, while rubbing the boy's back. "Who are you to call either of them freak? Clearly you're trying to make up for some lack in your own life. Probably the part where you can't get your own man. Instead, you have to make do with secret affairs with married men."

The woman was shocked. "Holmes must have told you that," she spat, trying to cover up her embarrassment.

Violet laughed, channeling Bellatrix just a bit. "Darling, I have no idea who you are. Sherlock's never wasted the breath needed to tell me the slightest thing about you. No, I saw you making eyes at that man over there. He's got a wedding ring, and you don't. That told me everything I needed to know about you. You don't have a high enough opinion of yourself, so you tear others down and settle for men who will never be yours."

The woman started toward Violet. "You little-"

"Donovan!" LeStrade barked. "That's enough! Clearly, we can do without you tonight. Go home."

"But sir-"

"Go home. If you're insulting children and guests, you do not need to be here. Go home."

The two had a staring contest, before the woman dropped her head slightly, then slunk out of the room in shame.

LeStrade sighed. "I am so sorry, you lot. I never thought-"

"It's not your fault, Greg," Sherlock said shortly, still cuddling Harry in his arms. "Would you like to get some cake now, Harry?" The boy nodded with his head still buried in Sherlock's neck, where he had planted it after yelling at the woman.

Violet watched the two of them, followed by John and Rosie, head to the food, not sure which one worried her more. "I really am sorry about Donovan, Violet," LeStrade said quietly. "She's a good cop, but something about Sherlock-"

"I've spent a good portion of my life defending Sherlock from bullies. That's nothing new," she said, smiling softly.

"But Harry shouldn't have to deal with it. He's just a kid! And if Donovan can't keep her mouth shut, I'm not sure how long she'll be a cop. Mycroft threatened to have her demoted last time she insulted Sherlock."

"And if he hears about this, he'll have her head," Mary interjected. "He may be incredibly standoffish, but I'd bet my life's savings that he won't stand for her bullying Harry even more so than even Sherlock." Violet nodded, knowing how Mycroft viewed Harry.

"Anyway, I'm so sorry about this, Violet. It won't happen again, I swear," Lestrade told her.

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got two boys to cheer up," she said, heading to where her boys were grumpily eating cake.

It took twenty minutes, three more slices of cake, and Molly telling them about the latest body she'd examined before they brightened up. Violet shook her head at just how much Harry was beginning to reflect Sherlock. And she wasn't sure that it was a bad thing.


	9. Chapter 9

"You can't take him with you on a case, Sherlock!... No, he's too young… No, Sherlock! Are you sure Mrs. Hudson… What about your parents?... John and Mary?... Oh, alright, fine, you can take him with you, but no bodies. He's too young for that, do you understand me?... Yes, skeletons are one thing, fleshy bodies that still look like people are quite another… Fine, just keep a good eye on him… Yes, alright. Bye." Violet slipped her mobile into her handbag, then smiled charmingly at the goblin at the desk. "Sorry about that. Family business."

"Of course, Mrs. LeStrange," Gormwood smiled greasily. "What can I do for you today?"

"First, please call me Ms. Evans. Second, I need to make a withdrawal from my personal vault. And third, I need an accounting of everything that is in my family vault."

"And which family vault might that be, Ms. Evans?" Gormwood asked, his mask of professional congeniality still firmly in place.

But Violet wasn't fooled. "The LeStrange vault, since it's the only family vault I have."

"I see," he said slowly. "However, if you've renounced the LeStrange name, you will no longer have a claim upon it."

She smiled. It wasn't a very nice smile. "Gormwood, as I was neither divorced nor disowned by the LeStrange family, and I am the only living member of it who is not currently imprisoned, I have sole control over the vault. Please give me an accounting of its contents."

"Of course, Ms. Evans," he bowed lowly. "It will take some time, since it is such a large and anciently established vault."

"Fine," she ground out. "But I do need it as soon as possible. Now, please take me to my personal vault."

"Right away, Ms. Evans. Griphook will take you to your vault."

She followed the second goblin to a little cart, then closed her eyes during the journey. She didn't especially relish the idea of vomiting on Griphook, nor did she think he would appreciate it.

When they finally stopped, Griphook handed Violet a lantern, then nodded respectfully, allowing her privacy. She climbed out of the cart and went to her vault, inserting the tiny key into the lock. It popped, and she tugged the door open.

Inside the vault was gold, of course, but she simply passed by that with no further thought. Instead, she headed toward the back, where several stacks of boxes stood. Examining each one carefully, she pulled a few out, creating a new stack with them. Once she was done with that, she pulled out her wand and shrank each one, then put them all into her handbag.

"Thank you, Griphook," she said, once the door was locked behind her and she had settled into the cart again.

"My pleasure, Ms. Evans," he said, taking them back to the surface.

Once she had concluded her business at the bank, Violet headed to Fortescue's for an ice cream. After all, a scoop of his raspberry cheesecake was just what a queasy stomach needed.

Just as she was savoring the very last bite, her mobile chimed. Meet us at Marylebone Rd for tea. She grinned briefly. Sherlock never was one to beat around the bush. So she apparated to the point closest to the Watson flat and walked the remaining block, arriving well before the three boys. "That just means we girls have a chance to chat, isn't that right, Rosie?" Mary said, handing a happily squealing baby to Violet.

They proceeded to gossip about their friends, and speculate how long it would be before Molly and Greg actually got together. They were in the process of thoroughly trashing Donovan when the boys arrived. Violet barely got a kiss from Harry before he was absorbed in Rosie. "Hi, Rosemud! I gotta see a real live body today! It was old an' looked funny." He continued jabbering, oblivious to his aunt glaring at the men.

"I thought I told you to keep him away from dead bodies," Violet said lowly, but there was no mistaking the anger in her voice.

"LeStrade had one of his men watch Harry while John and I inspected the body," Sherlock explained. "But Harry is much cleverer than the man gave him credit and slipped away. It's not my fault he's more intelligent at four years old than Scotland Yard's finest."

"If he has nightmares, you're the one staying with him," she sighed.

Mary chuckled. "Honestly, Vi, I don't think you'll have to worry about that. The poor boy sees a skull first thing in the morning and thinks it's perfectly fascinating. A dead body isn't going to scare him."

"I hope you're right."

"It won't damage him anymore than having Sherlock in his life will," John added with a grin.

"Says the man who named me godfather of his child," Sherlock shot back.

This kind of banter typified most of their conversations, and it pleased Violet. The easy, fun tone they had with one another hadn't been heard often in her childhood with Sherlock, at least not with anyone else around. And after spending so long in a household where insults and threats were traded with nearly every breath, and always meant, it was a refreshing change. But it would take some getting used to, she supposed, before she stopped being in awe of it every time she heard it.

They had a lovely tea with the Watsons, although it was hard to drag Harry away from playing with Rosie to eat. He then proceeded to shovel food in his mouth, hardly taking the time to chew before swallowing, then jumped down to play some more. "He really is the most adorable little boy I've ever met," Mary said in amazement. "Look at how good he is with her."

"They'll be best friends for life," John predicted.

"Until Rosie starts dating other blokes," Violet added, throwing a teasing glance at Sherlock.

Who simply sniffed. "If she is as intelligent as she currently appears to be, she'll know there's no one better."

A pang in her heart stopped Violet from responding for a moment, though she didn't miss the significant looks the elder Watsons were sharing. "He's right, you know, Rosie," she said, directing her words to the baby. "There is no one better than our Harry. Just keep that in mind for another twelve years or so."

"Twelve?" John gasped in shock. "She's not dating until she's at least twenty. Sorry, Harry."

Mary laughed. "Oh, I'm sure that will work. Because every teenaged girl listens when her father puts restrictions on her dating life. Right, Vi?"

"Oh, absolutely," she giggled. "I'm fairly certain that my father didn't know about my first two boyfriends. Of course, it helped that I was at boarding school, but still, he was convinced that I hadn't gone on a date until well after my sixteenth birthday."

Sherlock grimaced. "And he only found out about that one because your boyfriend," distasteful emphasis was placed on that word, "came to visit over Easter holiday."

"Uh, please don't remind me. It was rather disastrous," she groaned.

"Because he was an egotistical prick who had no brain to think for himself," Sherlock spat. "And then you married him."

"You know why!" Violet shot back, standing to gain some distance from him. "You know why I did it!"

Sherlock simply stood himself, removing any distance she had gained. "Yes, because you had to save the world. And only you could do it. You had to do it by yourself. Did it never occur to that it would have worked so much better if we had done it together? You're not the only genius in this relationship!"

"Stop! Stop yelling! Stop yelling!" Harry's voice broke through the barrier of past anger and hurt between the two of them, snapping them back to the present. "Stop yelling, Lock! Don't yell!" he cried again, as the glass in all the picture frames throughout the room exploded.

Sherlock muttered a word that Violet would have normally scolded him for saying in front of Harry, but every adult went straight for the children. He picked up Harry, though the boy struggled for a moment before collapsing against his chest in sobs. Violet carefully checked him over, as John did with Rosie, but neither child seemed harmed.

"It's alright, Harry, we know you didn't mean to. It's alright. We'll clean it up, and it will be just like it never happened. It's alright," Sherlock murmured to the trembling little boy in his arms.

"Absolutely," Violet agreed. "Look, I'll fix it right now. Look, love. Reparo." She waved her wand, and all the glass flew back into its frame, like it had never been broken.

Poor Harry was so hysterical, it took a few moments to calm him down. Or really, for him to cry himself to sleep in Sherlock's arms. "I'll put him to sleep on their bed, while you tell your Aunt Amelia to not send any Aurors," Sherlock instructed Violet. "Or Obliviators."

It was hard, after all that, to think of something happy, but Violet managed it. "Expecto Patronum," she said, then a huge, silvery jaguar burst out of her wand. "Auntie, don't send anyone to 394 D Marylebone Rd. I'll explain later."

The jaguar nodded once, then streaked through the glass, disappearing from view just as Sherlock came back in the room. "What the bloody hell was that?" John asked. His tone was quiet, which was far more alarming than if he had shouted.

"Magic, John. What else could it be?" Mary asked quietly, bouncing Rosie on her hip.

"You know about magic?" Sherlock asked, looking at her in much the same way her husband was.

"I've come across it in a few different missions," she said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "I just didn't realize that you lot had it. You all do, correct?"

"Yes, Sherlock, Harry, and I all have magic, as well as Mycroft and their parents," Violet answered, finding herself vaguely amused despite the circumstances.

"You told me that the supernatural isn't real," John growled, turning on Sherlock. "You said it was nothing more than drugs and imagination run wild!"

"You're talking about the Baskerville case. Well, John, that's all it was. Drugs to heighten fear and then an impressive array of special effects."

"'There's no such thing as the supernatural, John,'" he huffed, in an admirable parody of Sherlock. "Well, what do you bloody call magic?"

"Natural," Sherlock replied casually. "What we've got is completely natural. We're born with it. We die with it. It can't be taken from us."

"You're a bloody magician!" John shouted, startling Rosie, who began to cry again.

Mary gave a rueful smile to her husband. "I'm going to calm her down. Do you think you can calm down by yourself?"

"Not funny." He glared at her.

"A little bit, yeah," Violet said, then repressed the grin that threatened when he aimed the glare at her. "I can put a muffling spell on her room so she won't hear anything, if you'd like me to."

Both parents looked stunned. "Could we still hear her?" Mary asked hopefully.

"Of course. It wouldn't do much good, otherwise," Sherlock stated impatiently.

"I'll do it," Violet said, gesturing for Mary to go ahead of her.

The women came back a few minutes later to find that the men hadn't moved much. "Now then, boys, why don't we sit down and discuss this rationally?" Mary said, moving to her husband. "We are all adults, at least legally, so I think we can manage this."

Neither of the men looked happy at her little dig, but they both sat down. "Alright, Sherlock, explain. You've been a bloody magician for the entire time I've known you, and you couldn't be bothered with telling me?" John asked, in a strained voice.

"I couldn't tell you, John," Sherlock answered, uncharacteristically quiet. "It's international law."

"Since when have you cared about laws?" John spat.

Violet said, "You've got a point, but the prison he would go to is far worse than any Muggle one could possibly hope to be."

"Muggle?"

"Oh, sorry, non-magical person."

"So you've got your own language and everything." John was clearly not impressed.

"Only a few words here and there," Violet soothed with a smile. "But if you'll allow us to explain a bit, hopefully you'll understand why we couldn't say anything. Really, we shouldn't be saying anything now, but we'll manage."

John was silent for a moment, staring hard at his best friend, until finally, he turned and nodded to Violet. "I'll listen."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Now, where to begin?"

"Though magic has existed forever, or at least as long as humans have, the witch hunts are probably a good place to start," Sherlock inserted.

"Probably. Alright, in medieval times, there were witch hunts, and while very few magical people were actually caught, it still posed an incredibly real threat to the magical community. So we went into hiding, and it became illegal to allow Muggles to know about magic," Violet began. "Over time, some families have decided that those who have magic are superior to those who do not, and unfortunately, they have gained followers throughout time."

"'Some families'?" John questioned. "So magic is only hereditary?"

Sherlock picked up that thread. "Yes and no. Most magical parents produce magical children, who go on to produce magical children. Though every now and then, a non-magical child is born to magical parents."

"Like both of my parents," Violet smiled. "They were both what is called a Squib."

"A dud firecracker?" Mary's nose wrinkled in confusion.

"That's actually why they're called that," Violet laughed. "They had the potential to have magic, but they don't. And then there are Muggleborns."

"I'm assuming that means children of Muggles who have magic?" Mary questioned.

"Yes, exactly. Though research has proven that Muggleborns are descended from a Squib who married a Muggle, so really, anyone who has magic has ancestors who had it. Which makes all the Pureblood rhetoric utter rubbish," Violet said angrily.

"Could you explain that?" John looked a bit concerned.

She inhaled deeply, letting it out through her nose. "I mentioned some families thinking that those with magic are superior to those without. Well, most of them tend to think that the families who have the fewest Muggles are better than the rest, so-called Purebloods. It's not true, of course, since most Pureblood families simply disown any who don't toe the company line, so to speak. There are Pureblood families that don't care about one's blood status, but they tend to be few and far between. It's rather like the noble houses of England. There are some who think that they are better than everyone else because of their birth and refuse to marry anyone who isn't of equal status. They even go so far as to marry their close cousins to keep the bloodlines pure. And then there are families who don't care about that and marry solely on merit of that person. And some of these, like my mother's, who have stayed Purebloods simply by falling in love with other Purebloods."

"So your mother was a Pureblood. What about your father?" Mary questioned.

"He was a Half-blood, or at least would have been had he not been a Squib. He was from one of the families that have married Muggles or Muggleborns enough that they are no longer considered Purebloods. A commoner family, to keep with the nobility analogy," Violet answered.

"And what about you, Sherlock? Where does your family fit into all this?" John's tone was just short of a sneer. Violet felt it was more of a reaction to the situation than to his best friend.

"My family is Pureblood, though like Violet's mother's family," he answered.

Violet snorted a bit derisively. "Your family is, nor ever has been like any other family," she contradicted. "Isn't that the whole reason why you didn't go to Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" Mary asked, while John said, "Of course his family is different, even in magical terms."

Violet grinned at that. "Hogwarts is the premier magical school in Europe, some say the world. And Sherlock didn't attend with me because his mum decided he needed a Muggle education as well as a magical one. His family has always held a rather radical view on dealing with Muggles."

"Yes, Mummy did insist on it, though it only makes sense when one realizes that she taught mathematics at Cambridge," he replied, with a rather indulgent air.

"Why didn't she do anything magical?" Mary wondered.

"There's not much for a good Pureblood girl to do in the magical world," Violet said with a sardonic smile. "It's all rather Victorian, actually. We still use quills and parchment for everyday use, wear old-fashioned robes, candles, the whole thing."

There was a moment of quiet wherein John and Mary internalized everything they'd been told. Then, John finally said, "What did Sherlock mean when he said you had to save the world, all by yourself?"


	10. Chapter 10

Violet froze for the briefest moment, then blew out a breath. "It's a bit of a long story, but-"

"Stop being so dramatic, Vi," Sherlock said snidely. "We all know you're going to tell them, so just get on with it." Clearly, he was still upset from their earlier argument.

She glared at him, not any more willing to let it go than he was, but she did start to speak. "For you to understand, I need to explain a bit more about Purebloods, and my family, so please be patient with me. See, there are families who have historically been rather fanatical supporters of the Dark Arts and Pureblood mania, like the LeStranges, the family I married into, while others, like the Holmeses, or Harry's father's family, the Potters, have always been avid defenders of Muggles and against the Dark Arts. And then there are a few families that have been very carefully neutral. Like the Greengrasses, my mother's family."

"How very Slytherin of you," Sherlock sneered.

"How would you know? You never went to Hogwarts," she shot back, then clarified for the bewildered Watsons. "Slytherin is a House at Hogwarts, the one most of my family has been Sorted into for generations. We value cunning and ambition, and staying neutral throughout all the various conflicts is an incredibly Slytherin trait," she admitted grudgingly. "But there have been outliers in the family, some going Dark, while others, like my Aunt Amelia, who have gone on to advocate for equality and justice. However, very few are willing to offend any member of our family, since we have a certain… pull with the way things work in the magical world.

"But I didn't know anything about that growing up," Violet continued, a nostalgic smile on her lips. "Dad was a botany professor at Cambridge, and the Holmeses quickly introduced themselves once they found out who my parents were. Even with the age difference, the four of them became very good friends. It helped that they were each someone with whom they could discuss the magical world freely. And then Mum had me, and Sherlock was born three months later, and we each instantly had a best friend."

"And it was all rainbows and butterflies from there," Sherlock said, sarcasm soaking through every syllable. He threw himself out of the chair to stand by the window, letting the lighting silhouette him dramatically.

"Shut it, you," John sighed. "Let her finish."

"They need to know about this to understand what comes later," Violet added.

Sherlock sighed, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Carry on."

Violet shook her head. "Anyway, when I was three, Mum died. Dad was devastated, but after about a year, he decided that I needed a new mum, someone to help him raise me."

"Enter Dahlia," Sherlock said, spitting out the name with derision.

"I feel like an evil stepmum story is coming," Mary said, looking from Sherlock to Violet.

Violet laughed. "Oh, she wasn't evil, just incredibly insipid. Somehow, she thought being a professor's wife would be romantic,or glamorous, and she saw Dad as an easy target, being the grieving widower that he was. So she charmed him, and I'm sure her name was part of it, since Dad loved anything to do with plants. But Dahlia was a Muggle, though her introduction to magic came fairly early on in their marriage, happened much like yours today. I threw a fit when she tried to pick me up from a play date with Sherlock and she found herself stuck to the doorframe. Cecelia, Sherlock's mum, had to unstick her, and then the Holmeses and Dad explained. She didn't take it well, so when Petunia was born, she was delighted that she didn't have magic. And then Lily was born with magic, and our household became even more awkward. Dahlia and Petunia hated that Lily and I had magic, though Petunia was more jealous than anything, and Dad simply tried to keep the peace."

"It's not like you could help having magic!" Mary cried in defense of her friend.

Sherlock snorted. "That didn't matter to Dahlia. She even tried to keep Vi from playing with me, hoping that lessening her exposure to a magical household would keep her magic away."

"And then when Lily found Severus, she tried the same thing. Severus was a boy Lily's age, from a half-and-half family as well, and Dahlia didn't want him around, either. Though in his case, I can't blame her. Severus was always so creepy, even as a boy." Violet shuddered for a moment. "But he doesn't matter now. So other than Dahlia hating magic, I had a fairly happy, sheltered childhood. I visited both sets of grandparents frequently, and my Aunt Amelia, Mum's younger sister, especially doted on me. So once I arrived at Hogwarts, I had a bit of a rude awakening. Because of my Greengrass blood, I was accepted by all the right families, but I could see how most of the Purebloods thought that Muggles were scum, and Muggleborns barely half a step above that. And since Lily was the daughter of a Half Blood Squib and a Muggle, she was considered a Muggleborn, and therefore scum, as well. And there were whispers of someone who would do something about the Muggle problem, wiping them out once and for all, to keep the magical blood pure, of course."

"That's disgusting," John said. "It's like Hitler, but with magic. Wipe out anything you don't like and recreate the world in your image."

"Exactly. And I knew my baby sister would be a target, but there was nothing I could do about it. At least not then. And that's when the beginnings of my plan started taking root, the one Sherlock mentioned earlier," Violet explained.

"Your insane plan," Sherlock added helpfully.

She glared at him. "You only say that because you didn't come up with it. If it had been your plan, you would have said it was genius."

"Because it would have been."

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock." Three voices rang in unison, and he looked rather offended, though he did as requested.

Violet continued. "Anyway, I began to act as all the other perfect Pureblood girls in my year did. I did passably well in classes, well enough to be thought clever, but not too clever. I stopped flying, except at home, and I took exceptional care of my appearance. I ingratiated myself with all the right families, mostly to keep myself from being a target. But it wasn't until I was fifteen that my plan really took shape. By this time, an idiot calling himself Lord Voldemort had really started collecting followers, and most of my classmates in Slytherin were at least agreeing with him, if not fully supporting him, in secret, in course. There were those in other houses, but Slytherin seemed to be the starting point for it all. And this was the time that boys really started noticing me."

"I guarantee that it didn't start in your Fifth Year," Sherlock grumbled, turning back to his dramatic pose in front of the window.

But Violet ignored him. "Thorfinn Rowle was my first boyfriend, and I heard quite a bit when we were with his friends. They didn't think anything of it, believing me to agree with their ideology, and so it was perfectly acceptable to discuss all the terrible things they would do once they joined Voldemort. Then I dated Alexander Selwyn, whose father was one of Voldemort's closest followers. I realized that I could make a huge difference with all that I would hear, if I kept up the pretense. So I discussed it with my Aunt Amelia, who was Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time. She tried to talk me out of it, since I would most likely be killed if they discovered me, but I refused to budge."

"You've always been stubborn." Sherlock's statement almost sounded like a compliment, but she highly doubted it.

"Says the king of stubborn," John countered. "Go on, Violet."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, John. As I was saying, I wouldn't be swayed from my plan, so Auntie helped me to flesh it out. She introduced me to an Auror, um, magical policeman, named Alastor Moody, who was to be my contact for all of this. During breaks from school, they would teach me more defensive spells, practice dueling and Apparating, so that I could get out of any sticky situation that should arise. But none of us could have imagined the opportunity that nearly fell into my lap.

"While I was at school, one of my closest friends was Narcissa Black. We did nearly everything together, so when she invited me to her older sister's wedding, it came as no surprise. What did come as a surprise was Rabastan LeStrange, the groom's younger brother. He'd been four years above us at school, so he hadn't even known who I was. But he saw me at the wedding, and he flirted with me. I was flattered, of course, or at least pretended to be, since he was so much older than me, but I didn't think anything of it. Until he started to write to me. He would show up in the village next to the school on our free weekends to surprise me, send me little gifts. It was very flattering, but what made it even more enticing was the fact that I knew he was very close to Voldemort.

"We started dating towards the end of my Fifth Year, though I kept it from my family. Well, Auntie Amelia knew, but Dad didn't. Until Easter holiday of Sixth Year, when I told Dad and Lily my plan, and Sherlock, too. None of them were happy about it, but I didn't listen. And then, Rabastan visited as a surprise for me. He knew Dad was a Squib, but I hadn't told him about Dahlia being a Muggle, and he exploded. He accused me of lying to him, and deceiving him, and all sorts of nonsense. It took quite a bit of crying and apologizing and even renouncing my family to get him to accept me again. After that, I moved in with Auntie Amelia and her husband, and I didn't have any real contact with my family again. I even went by Greengrass instead of Evans. Rabastan proposed shortly after that, convinced of my loyalties. We married three weeks after I graduated, and I was able to carefully foil rather a lot of Voldemort's plans. Especially when he stayed in the LeStrange family manor for extended periods of time."

Silence greeted Violet when she finished her tale. Sherlock was still refusing to look in her direction, while John and Mary seemed unable to look away from her. Finally, Mary spoke. "Now I know why Sherlock said we had a lot in common. You were the perfect spy."

Violet laughed. "I merely used their own preconceived notions of what a Pureblood's wife should be against them. And it helps that I am a natural born Legilimens."

"That means she can read your mind," Sherlock stated blandly, still glaring out the window.

"But I keep it carefully under control," she hurried to add. "I don't use it on friends."

"So you didn't even need to overhear them making plans, you just had to hear their thoughts later," John said, sounding slightly awed. "That's brilliant."

"Thank you, John," she grinned at him.

"I still don't understand why you had to do it alone," Sherlock growled, whirling around to face her at last. "We could have done it so much better together."

"Yes, because my plan to infiltrate a Death Eater's family by marriage would have worked so much better if I had brought my very male best friend along with me," Violet said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You know as well as I that while Pureblood men rarely practice fidelity in their marriages, the women are generally required to do so. And if I had brought you along, everyone would have thought it was so I could sleep with you on the side."

"She's got a fair point, mate," John said.

But Sherlock ignored him. "We could have acted as a couple, gone in as Death Eaters ourselves."

"And then we would have had to prove ourselves loyal to the cause," Violet countered. "We would have had to torture and kill and every sort of unimaginable horror just to be accepted."

Sherlock stubbornly shook his head. "I could have kept you safe!"

"I didn't need to be protected!" she yelled back. "I went through every Auror training exercise at the age of sixteen, for Merlin's sake! I can take care of myself!"

"From Rabastan?" Those two little words were spoken softly, but they pierced the space between them. "I would have protected you from him."

Violet stared at him for a long time, not uttering a word. When she did finally speak, it wasn't what anyone thought she would say. "Harry's been sleeping for long enough. He won't sleep tonight if he sleeps any longer now. We should wake him, and then go home. We've taken enough of the Watsons' time."

Protests were made by both Watsons in question, but Violet didn't listen. So Mary went with her to collect the children, as they had previously discovered it did not do to try to take Harry without allowing him to say goodbye to his Rosemud. "Could you make that spell on Rosie's room permanent?" Mary asked as the women brought the sleepy children back into the lounge.

"Or at least work a bit longer?" John added hopefully.

Violet smiled, but all the adults saw it didn't reach her eyes. "It should last a few more days. I'll look into a more permanent solution for you."

"Thank you," the Watsons chorused in weary gratefulness.

Goodbyes were said, and the Baker Street trio left. The cab ride home was in near silence, even for having an extraordinarily chatty driver. And once home, Violet threw herself into playing with Harry, ignoring Sherlock at every turn. He, to be fair, was also ignoring her, scraping at his violin in the most obnoxious way possible, before finally settling into the most melancholy music Violet had ever heard.

The desolate music lasted through dinner and into the evening. It only paused when Harry hugged his Lock goodnight, though it started up again as Harry took Violet's hand to go up the stairs to his bedroom. Violet had to use the muffling spell just so Harry would be able to sleep.

"Auntie, why is Lock playing sad music? I don't like sad music," the little boy announced as she tucked the blankets up under his slightly quivering chin.

She sighed, trying to come up with an answer that a four year old could understand. "Well, love, Lock and I had an argument earlier, the one you heard, and we are both still rather upset."

"So why don't you just say sorry?" His question was so innocent, but incredibly profound.

"I'll go talk to him," she promised, "but it is time for you to sleep now, love. Goodnight, my darling."

Violet walked slowly down the stairs, trying to order her thoughts into something that made some semblance of sense. Once at the bottom, she simply stared at the back of the man who knew her better than anyone.

"I can feel you staring." Sherlock never stopped playing, but she could see his reflection in the window, where he was watching her, as well.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

That got his full attention. He turned around slowly, confusion and wonder warring across his face. After all, neither of them were prone to apologies.

"I'm sorry I left you," Violet said, continuing in a soft voice. "I was so sure of myself that I never stopped to think about how it would affect those I was leaving behind. I never wanted to hurt you. I won't apologize for going through with my plan, since I was able to help save so many. But I am sorry I left you, that I hurt you."

He was silent for a moment. "I missed you every day for sixteen years. You were my best friend. I didn't really know how to live without you, but somehow, eventually, I managed. I made a life for myself, even somehow found friends. And then you come waltzing in, and somehow it's like we've never been apart. But we have. We've both been through so much, me with Moriarty, and you with that hell that was being LeStrange's wife. Sometimes it's so easy to just fall back on our old ways. And other times, it's like I don't even know you anymore."

Violet smiled hollowly. "We do have sixteen years to make up for, if you'll forgive me."

Sherlock studied her for a long moment, and she felt like one of his experiments. "I missed you, Vi," he finally said, sounding younger and more vulnerable than she'd heard in years.

Looking back later, neither was sure who moved first, but they found themselves wrapped in each other's arms.

There was quite a bit of conversation that night, filling each other in on all they'd missed. Oh, of course there were things they glossed over, not quite ready to share that much. Not just yet, anyway. But Violet shared her final triumph over the Death Eaters, the night Rudolphus had been arrested and Rabastan and Bellatrix killed. And Sherlock told her about beating Moriarty, and the two years it had taken to pull down his network from around the world. She spoke about having to pretend to be upset about Voldemort's disappearance when she had really wanted to rage at the world for her sister's loss. He expressed his confusion when John had asked him to be his best man, and how nervous he'd been, and still was, when he'd been asked to be Rosie's godfather.

It was very late when, with Sherlock's head on her lap, Violet asked him about the song he'd been playing earlier in the day. "I've never heard it before," she said, carding her fingers through the curls she'd always envied.

"It's because I wrote it," he confessed, a little smile lurking for a moment at the corners of his lips. But then they turned down again. "I wrote it the day you left."

Her heart clenched just a tiny bit. "Well, I'm not going anywhere now, so no more sad songs. It was beautiful, but Harry didn't like it."

Sherlock let out a bark of laughter. "Harry didn't like it, hm? Then, from now on, I'll have to make sure to play happy songs."

"He'll appreciate that," she said, a happy, sleepy grin finally on her face.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the middle of November before the residents of 221B got a response to the letter they'd sent on Halloween. Violet read it privately before telling Harry about it, just in case the contents disappointed. They didn't, however, and a return note was sent confirming their appointment for the twenty-third, but amending it to an invitation for tea at their home. A note arrived the next day to agree.

The morning of the twenty-third dawned with Harry jumping onto the bed in Sherlock's room. Violet managed to roll away, keeping her from any sharp joints, but Sherlock was not quite so lucky. He got two knees in his stomach, driving all breath from his lungs. "Sorry, Lock," Harry giggled, attempting to appear contrite.

Sherlock didn't fall for it. Once he recovered, he grabbed the little boy around his middle. "I think you deserve some tickles for this," he growled, then blew a raspberry on Harry's belly.

"Auntie Vi! Save me!" Harry cried out, heavily punctuated with giggles and loud shrieks.

"I know better than to get involved," she said, laughing at the sight.

"That's because she's ticklish, too," Sherlock mock whispered, pausing in his assault to conspire with Harry.

"Sherlock, no." Violet started to back away, but unfortunately, when she had rolled, the sheet had caught underneath her. And now, she was trapped, with two mischievous little boys (although one was over six feet tall) advancing on her. "Please, no," she laughed, but they didn't listen.

After much laughter and many tickles, they finally made their way into the kitchen for breakfast. "Is he really coming, Auntie?" Harry asked, around the corn flakes in his mouth.

"Yes, he is, for tea, and please don't talk with your mouth full," she chided gently.

"Sorry," he mumbled, still with cereal in his mouth. Sherlock snorted into his coffee, trying to hide his laughter. Violet glared at the man, but turned back to Harry when he asked, "What's he like?"

"I only met him once or twice," she answered slowly, "but I remember that he was very nice. Quiet, polite, but he had a wicked sense of humor, as I recall."

"Like Uncle John!" he cried happily.

"A bit, yes. Now, I know it's a long time until tea, so would you like to go through my photographs again?" Violet had gone through her boxes of photographs with Harry before, the ones she'd stored in her Gringotts vault, and he'd loved it every time.

"Yes, please!" he hollered, waving his spoon happily in his exuberance.

"Alright, once you're done eating."

The morning was then spent diving into the past, with Violet telling little stories about each picture. Sherlock amused himself by having Harry try to deduce what each person had been doing in each one. It was a bit easier to do with the magical photos, since they moved, but Sherlock was impressed with the four year old's deductions, anyway.

A knock at the door brought them all up. "There's a Mr. Lupin here for you lot," Mrs. Hudson announced, bringing in a tray of her famous lemon scones, before leaving quietly.

A man had followed her in, seeming a bit nervous. His clothes were neat, but had obvious signs of being patched. The lines on his face and the grey in his hair suggested a man closer in age to Mrs. Hudson than Violet or Sherlock. But the smile that beamed when he caught sight of Harry offset them to reveal a man in his mid-twenties. "Harry," he breathed, losing all sight of his earlier reticence and heading straight for the boy.

He stopped just short of the three residents, who had all stood at his entrance. "It's so good of you to come, Mr. Lupin," Violet said warmly, holding her hand out for him to take.

He did so automatically, barely holding her gaze for a few seconds before flitting back to Harry. "Thank you for inviting me. It's good to see you again."

"Welcome, Mr. Lupin," Sherlock said, his hand out in an uncharacteristically warm gesture. "I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"I've read about you," he said, smiling briefly. "I never realized that you had magic, though."

"Yes, well, my cases for the Ministry have thankfully remained out of the journalistic realm of notice. I can only imagine what someone like Rita Skeeter would have to say about me," Sherlock smirked.

Lupin smiled again, but once more, his gaze went back to Harry. "Hello, Harry. I'm sure you don't remember me, but I was good friends with your Mum and Dad."

Harry looked a bit nervous, until he studied the man's face more closely. "Moo?" he said hesitantly, like he wasn't at all sure of what he was saying. Or why.

"Harry, he's not a cow," Sherlock said, lightly scolding.

But Violet was watching Lupin. When Harry had said that, he'd frozen, looking a bit shattered. "Do you remember me?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

"Moo," Harry said again, with more confidence this time. "Stories? Did you read me stories?"

The man laughed as a tear ran down his cheek. "Yes, Harry, I did. I used to read you stories when you were a baby. Do you remember?"

"Rabitty?" the boy asked, head cocked to the side. "And Hoppy Pot?"

"You read him Beedle the Bard. I approve," Violet said warmly. "Why don't I get us all some tea and we can talk some more, yes? Please, Mr. Lupin, sit down."

"Only if you'll call me Remus, please," he said, taking his spot in what Sherlock still called John's chair.

Violet smiled, arranging a tray with the tea things before bringing it all over. "You'll have to explain why Harry called you Moo. In everything I got from Lily, there was never any mention of any cows."

Lupin laughed again, each time taking off a year or two from his face. "It had nothing to do with cows, I assure you. James and… and my other friends called me Moony, and the closest that Harry could pronounce was Moo. Sir- the others took particular glee in it."

"I'm sure James would have loved that," Violet agreed with a grin.

"He called me that exclusively for a week, before Lily threatened to hex him," Lupin agreed.

"What's in your box?" Harry asked, curiously eyeing the small box Lupin had brought in with him.

"Pictures," he said, a conspiratorial grin on his face. "I have pictures of your dad and me from school, and some from after. Have you ever seen a picture of your parents' wedding?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Auntie Violet showed me, but you might have diff'r'nt ones. C'n I see, please?"

Lupin seemed a bit surprised at how polite Harry was, but he eagerly opened his box and started showing off the contents. "This one was from my very first day at Hogwarts. James, your dad, insisted on taking it once we made it to our dorm, saying that the four of us were going to be the best of friends."

"He had glasses, just like me! Look, Lock! He had glasses!" Harry was rather enthusiastically shaking the picture in Sherlock's face. He took it with a surprising grace, nodding to the adorable little boy.

"Yes, he does. Shall we look at a few more?"

Lupin showed Harry another photo, which Harry had to show to both Violet and Sherlock. And he had to do so with the next one, and the one after that. Every picture needed inspection from all the adults before Harry could put it in the slowly growing pile next to him.

Several hours later, once Harry's indomitable enthusiasm was finally lagging, a face in a photo of Lily and James's house caught Violet's eye. "Harry love, why don't you take Mrs. Hudson's tray down to her? Make sure you thank her for the yummy scones, alright?"

Harry was clearly not excited about this, but he agreed. Once he was down the stairs and out of earshot, Sherlock asked, "What's wrong, Vi?"

She picked up the photo and pointed to the short, plump young man in front of the house. "Why is there a Death Eater in front of my sister's house?"

"That's Peter," Lupin argued. "Peter Pettigrew, our friend. He's been in half of these photos. He wasn't a Death Eater."

"I saw him receive the Dark Mark," Violet countered. "It was in my house."

Sherlock wondered aloud, "Could he have been a spy for Dumbledore?"

"He had to have been," Lupin agreed, but he seemed rather unsure of that.

Violet made up her mind in an instant. "Sherlock, Floo Dumbledore. Ask him to come here as soon as possible. Oh, where is my phone? Ah, there it is."

As Sherlock strode to the fireplace, Violet sent a text to Mrs. Hudson, asking her to keep Harry downstairs for a while. She got a confirmation just as the fireplace blazed emerald, and Dumbledore stepped through to their lounge. "What can I do for you three?" he asked, taking in the occupants of the room as he settled himself into Sherlock's chair once more.

"Sir, was Peter Pettigrew a spy for you?" Violet demanded, a helpless sort of desperation rising in her.

"Peter? No, of course not," Dumbledore answered, looking rather bewildered. "We rarely sent him out on missions, and only ever when at least one of his friends was with him. You knew this, Remus."

"Then he was a Death Eater." Lupin pronounced it the same way one would a death sentence.

"What? He was no more a Death Eater than I was. Black was the traitor, the spy," Dumbledore protested vehemently. "And then he killed Peter when cornered."

"Black? Which Black?" Violet's confusion warred with her desire to make her sister's betrayer pay.

"Sirius," Lupin said, like he'd just realized something that shattered him. "If Peter was the spy, that means that Sirius has been in Azkaban for three years for a crime he didn't commit."

"Remus, Black was the Secret-Keeper," Dumbledore reminded. "The Potters told me themselves. And Peter was not a Death Eater."

"Violet saw him receive the Dark Mark," Sherlock insisted.

"And Sirius Black couldn't have been a Death Eater," Violet added.

Dumbledore cocked his head at that. "Why not?"

She scoffed. "I lived with one of his cousins for fifteen years, and another has been one of my closest friends since the day I was Sorted into Slytherin. From the time he was Sorted into Gryffindor, the only things I ever heard about Sirius Black were how he was a disgrace to his family and a blood traitor for associating with Half-bloods, Mudbloods, and werew- Oh." She stopped herself, glancing at Lupin before quickly looking away.

He only huffed a short laugh. "Yes, I'm both a Half-blood and a werewolf, but the second one only affects me one night in twenty-eight."

"That's unfortunate," Sherlock said shortly. "But will someone please tell us what happened with Pettigrew and Black?"

"Are you absolutely sure that Black couldn't have been a Death Eater and that Pettigrew was?" Dumbledore asked Violet.

She nodded. "Yes, Bella would have been ecstatic to deliver her other little cousin to Voldemort. She made a big enough deal about Regulus, and with Sirius being the black sheep, or in this case, white, she would have made it into even more of a production. And Pettigrew killed Dorcas Meadowes and David Thomas as his initiation. I saw it, and then had to serve him dinner afterwards."

Dumbledore sat thoughtfully for a long moment, much like Sherlock when he was in his mind palace. He continued to think, even after Sherlock asked Lupin, "Can you tell us what happened?"

Lupin looked surprised. "You don't know?" He aimed the question to both Sherlock and Violet.

Sherlock shook his head. "I was in Brussels at the time. Or was it Brazil? Anyway, I was unravelling an international crime ring."

"And I was pretending to mourn the death of my sister's murderer," Violet added, a falsely cheery smile on her face.

"Oh, right, well, Dumbledore knew about a prophecy that foretold of the one who would bring about Voldemort's demise, and Harry was one of the candidates, so James and Lily went into hiding, as did the Longbottoms." Violet twitched at the name, but Lupin didn't seem to notice. "But hiding was never enough when Voldemort was personally searching for someone, so Dumbledore suggested using the Fidelius Charm. He even offered to be the Secret-Keeper for both families, but neither went with him. I think Frank and Alice chose his mother, and James and Lily chose Sirius. I was sent on a mission undercover with the werewolves just before they did the spell, so I assumed that Sirius was the Secret-Keeper, but they must have switched at the last minute and couldn't tell me. Looking back, it makes sense, as Sirius was the obvious choice. No one would have suspected Peter, since he was barely average talent-wise, and no one would choose to have a werewolf in such a position of trust." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "And then Halloween happened, and the whole world was celebrating, and then I heard about one of my best friends cornering the only other one alive and murdering him and twelve Muggles in the street. Sirius was taken to Azkaban without a trial, since everyone was convinced of his guilt, and he didn't even try to deny it. In fact, he kept saying that it was his fault, over and over when they arrested him."

"No trial?" Sherlock questioned, appalled.

"The Ministry wanted to show that they were in control of the situation," Violet said sadly. "Even though they most assuredly were not."

"Would you be able to visit Azkaban prison with me tomorrow?" Dumbledore asked suddenly, looking at all of them. "I'm sure we can arrange something with the help of your Aunt Amelia, Violet."

"I don't have anything tomorrow," Violet agreed.

Lupin smirked a bit. "Since I'm currently between jobs, I'm free, as well."

"I'll stay with Harry," Sherlock volunteered. "He doesn't need to see that."

They agreed on a time, then Violet sent a Patronus to her aunt, asking for her help. While they waited for a reply, Sherlock and Dumbledore started a conversation about the uses of dragon's blood.

Violet was quiet for a moment, considering Lupin. Then, finally she asked, "Did Lily know?"

"That I am a werewolf? Yes. She guessed sometime during our Third Year, and I confirmed it once she and James became serious and she joined our little group."

"If she trusted you, I see no reason not to. Though you will forgive me, I hope, if it takes me a bit to get used to it. After all, the only werewolves I've ever met have been Fenrir Greyback and others from his pack, and they aren't the best examples one could have," she said, smiling slightly.

Another short laugh exploded from his mouth, this time harsh and bitter. "I can only imagine the impression they would have left on you."

"It was less than stellar."

Another silence fell between the two of them, but this one was more comfortable. Finally, Lupin said softly, "Did you know that Sirius is Harry's godfather?"

She nodded. "I did. I had wondered where he was, since Harry had been taken to… my sister's house, but once I got Harry, I didn't concern myself with it much. I am his godmother, and the only magical relative he's got left alive, but I won't cut Sirius off from him. We can come to an arrangement, hopefully. But Baker Street is currently the safest place Harry could possibly be, with all the wards that Sherlock, Dumbledore, and I have put up."

"I'm sure once he's recovered from… his ordeal, Sirius will be amenable to working something out. As long as you're not trying to keep him away from Harry, he should be reasonable," Lupin assured.

"Harry needs all the love he can get. I'm not going to keep him away from someone who obviously loves him. And that goes for you, as well," she promised.

The answering smile he gave could have lit up the world. But a large female bear Patronus lumbering through the window stopped any further conversation. "Violet, meet me in my office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Dumbledore and Mr. Lupin are invited, as well. Bring chocolate," came from the bear's mouth in the voice of Violet's Aunt Amelia.

"It looks like everything is arranged, then," Dumbledore spoke, standing up. "I will see you two tomorrow, and Mr. Holmes, thank you for the stimulating discussion." Sherlock nodded, then the old man walked directly to the fireplace, threw in some Floo powder with a declaration of "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office," then disappeared in a roar of green flames.

"I should probably be leaving, as well," Lupin said politely.

But Violet wouldn't hear it. "You can't leave without saying goodbye to Harry. He'd be devastated. And it's nearly dinner time, so you might as well stay. Sherlock, while I go get Harry, why don't you start the water for the pasta. It'll only be spaghetti, I'm afraid, since I haven't gone out for food for a while. I'll be right back."

Sherlock laughed at the dumbstruck look on Lupin's face. "You'll get used to it. She's always like that."

"The thing is, I am used to it. Or, I was. Lily was exactly the same way, and for a moment, I was back in Godric's Hollow with her bossing me around."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update on Sunday, but here's a few more chapters, in which we get to meet my absolute favorite character ever!

Violet found herself pulling on robes for the first time since Rabastan's death, much to her dismay. Though it did make her happy to transfigure them to a chic pair of pants and a white blouse, at least until she got to the Apparition point. "Why can't the magical world evolve in fashion?" she grumbled as Sherlock handed her a cup of tea.

"You could always go to the Ministry in Muggle clothes," he suggested. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eye, he added, "It would horrify all those stodgy old fools."

She sniggered before tossing back the tea. "Alright, Harry, you be good for Lock, alright? I've got some meetings to attend, so I'll be gone at least for the morning."

"Lock's gonna take me t' see Molly," Harry said happily, swinging his feet from his chair.

"That's nice, dear, you have- Wait, at the morgue?"

"Mhm." Harry was blissfully unaware of the glare his Auntie was shooting Lock, since he was busy demolishing his eggs.

"LeStrade called me with a case this morning," Sherlock explained, attempting to look contrite. He failed, since Violet knew him far too well.

She sighed. "Just keep him away from bodies that still look like people, please. Or at the very least, away from the gruesome ones."

The three of them caught a cab together, with the boys dropping Violet off at the Apparition point. Inside, she then, grumbling, changed her clothes back to her robes, before striding to the public fireplace and Flooing to the Ministry.

The Atrium of the Ministry hadn't changed much since she'd started coming at the age of nine, she thought with a smirk. The ugly Fountain of Magical Brethren was still spouting water as well as lies, and the giant banner of Fudge's face was the one ridiculous change she could see. She had to carefully school her expression before heading to the security desk. "Hullo, Eric," she said, handing over her wand before the guard even had a chance to ask for it.

"It's good to see you again, Violet," he said dully, his tone distinctly contrasting with his words. "Acacia, dragon heartstring, 12 ½ inches, still your original wand. Madame Bones is waiting for you," he continued, handing her wand back to her.

"Thank you, Eric. Lovely to see you as ever!" she called over her shoulder. "You're looking utterly smashing!" She then laughed to herself as he flushed bright fuschia.

Violet was nearly to the lifts when she heard her name being called. "Violet! Violet Le-Evans! Violet, wait!" She turned to see a tiny blonde elbowing her way through the crowd to get to her side. "I'm so glad to see you!" she said, throwing her arms around Violet.

Who was incredibly uncomfortable, but succeeded in patting her back. "Alice, you're back to work already?"

"Of course, those bloody Death Eaters couldn't keep me from doing my job," she said resolutely. "I thought you would like to know that Frank is recovering rather well. He even recognized me and Neville last week!"

"That's wonderful news," Violet smiled widely. "And your arm is fine?"

"Mostly," Alice said, waving it aside. "It's not my wand arm, so who cares, really?"

"What are you doing here, LeStrange? You should be in Azkaban, or dead, like your filthy husband," a witch hissed as she passed Violet to get to the lifts.

Violet took a deep breath, prepared to simply ignore the comment. Alice, however, was not. "How dare you, Rachel Hornby? Do you even know what this woman has done? She spent years married to that horrible man so that she could help pass on information to save people. She saved my life, and that of my husband's. If not for her, I would not be standing here today. I owe this woman my life, and I am proud to call her my friend."

Alice's proclamation had steadily increased in volume until nearly the entire Atrium was able to hear her. Violet wanted nothing more than to slink away from all those staring eyes, but Alice's arm around her waist kept her in place. "And furthermore," Alice continued, "I will take any and all slights against her as a personal insult to me and my family."

"And she is already part of my family," a new voice sounded from the lifts. "So I would suggest you keep your mouth shut, Ms. Hornby, or you might find yourself offending the wrong family."

"Really, Auntie, Alice, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Violet protested, trying to free herself from either of the two arms propelling her into the lift. Neither Alice nor her Aunt Amelia let go.

"I know, dear, but this way you'll face fewer recriminations from idiotic gossips," Aunt Amelia declared.

"And just because you can doesn't mean you have to," Alice added. "By the way, Madame Bones was telling me that you now have Harry living with you. You're probably not aware, but he and my Neville used to play together during Order meetings. Would you mind terribly if they did again? I know Neville missed him dreadfully."

"Oh, of course! I'm sure Harry would love it, and Merlin knows he could do to spend time with other children, especially one so close to his own age," Violet replied, thrown slightly by Alice's masterful change in subject.

"Lovely! I'll owl you soon, though it might have to wait until after the holidays. Frank's mum has so many traditions that I think she just keeps making up new ones to keep us around. And this is my stop. I'll see you in a few minutes!"

Violet stared in amazement after the blonde whirlwind exited the lift. "I forgot just how forceful she can be," she finally breathed as the lift doors closed again.

Amelia laughed. "You couldn't ask for a better champion. I can guarantee that every single person in the Atrium went back to their offices and told their coworkers all about that particular Auror defending a Death Eater's wife. Now, we'll be meeting Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Lupin in my office, and Cornelius will be there, as well, since we technically need his permission to speak to Black. Alastor and Longbottom will be accompanying us, once his permission has been granted. You did bring chocolate with you, yes?"

"Yes, Auntie, I did," Violet teased lightly. "How long do you think it will take for Fudge to say yes?"

"Who knows?" Amelia replied as the doors opened and the cool voice telling them that they had arrived at Level Two: The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "That man is so full of himself that it might take forever to flatter him enough to get him to agree."

"I have a plan if it comes to that," Violet assured, then saw Lupin waiting in a chair by Amelia's office. "Good morning, Remus," she said, smiling at the man. There was still a twinge of uneasiness, but she ruthlessly pushed it down. After all, she reminded herself, if Lily trusted him enough to be around Harry, she certainly can.

Lupin stood up as the two women approached. "Morning, Violet. Madame Bones, a pleasure to meet you," he said, hand stretched out to the formidable older woman.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Lupin," Amelia said, shaking his proffered hand. "I remember hearing things about you from the Potters, before their deaths, and the Longbottoms have always spoken highly of you. It's nice to be able to put a face to the name I've been hearing for so long."

"That's very kind," the younger man said, seeming a bit nervous.

Thankfully, for his sake, Dumbledore chose that moment to appear, as well, with the Minister of Magic in tow. "I'm terribly sorry I'm late," the professor began, "but by happy accident, I ran into Cornelius and managed to convince him to join us now."

Violet and Lupin shared an amused glance, but both managed to keep their smiles hidden. "Why don't we take this into my office, then?" Amelia suggested, then proceeded to herd them all in, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Violet had barely taken her seat before Fudge burst into complaint. "What is this nonsense, Amelia? You said something about needing to go to Azkaban with civilians, and then Dumbledore comes in spouting rubbish about Sirius Black might not be guilty after all."

"He isn't, sir," Violet confirmed. "Sirius was never a Death Eater, which means that the Aurors got the wrong man."

"And who, pray tell, is the right man?" he asked disdainfully. Violet had to restrain herself from punching the pompous little man.

"Peter Pettigrew," Lupin said quietly.

That drew Fudge's attention. "Pett-Pettigrew? The poor man was murdered by Black, in case you've forgotten," he said, condescension dripping from every word.

"How could I, Minister? He was my best friend, along with Sirius and James," Lupin said calmly, though Violet could tell that it took effort to sound so.

Fudge's complexion took on a rather ashy hue for a moment, before turning back to normal. "Then you of all people should want Black to stay precisely where he is."

"I would, and did, until yesterday, when new information came my way," Lupin explained.

"And what information could this be?"

"Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater," Violet interjected, feeling a need to protect Lupin a bit from the no doubt painful memories this discussion was bringing back.

Fudge focused on her, shock covering his face, before it quickly turned to contempt. "You expect me to believe that Peter Pettigrew, Order of Merlin, First Class," here he emphasized the words so much he was nearly spitting at her, "was a Death Eater. Yes, that makes perfect sense."

"Yes, I do, since I saw him receiving his Dark Mark," Violet shot back. "It was in my house, after all. I saw him kill David Thomas and Dorcas Meadowes for his initiation. He was proud of his position of being a spy. And Sirius Black was no more a Death Eater than I was. His cousin, the one who was married to my brother-in-law, would have jubilantly brought him to Voldemort with quite the fanfare. You've got the wrong man in Azkaban, Minister."

Fudge scoffed. "No more a Death Eater than you? That's not exactly a ringing endorsement, now is it?"

"Cornelius, you have been briefed of my niece's activities during the war," Amelia stated harshly. "And if you need more witnesses, you may ask Alastor Moody, who was her contact during the entirety of her marriage to Rabastan LeStrange. And as I seem to recall, the Wizengamot voted to award her with her own Order of Merlin for her bravery."

Fudge flushed at the implied meaning behind her words. "So you want me to release Black? Simply on her word alone."

"No," Dumbledore spoke. And when he spoke, everyone listened. "We are merely asking for permission to speak with him, to try and determine what exactly happened the week leading up to the Potters' deaths and Black's arrest. If you'll remember, Cornelius, Black was never given a trial. Barty was allowed quite a bit of freedom in those days, and he allowed his fervor to overcome justice. Allow us at least to look into this, see if there is an innocent man in the hands of the Dementors."

Fudge considered his words carefully, puzzling over them to see how he could get the best possible outcome for himself. His contemplation was broken by the sound of Violet's mobile ringing. As it was Sherlock's ringtone, she immediately answered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Vi, I simply needed to ask if I could take Harry to a crime scene," Sherlock's voice came through the line, sounding a bit amused at her expense. "I didn't want a repeat of the last time I took him to a crime scene without your knowledge."

She hesitated for a moment. "Will there be gruesome bodies?"

"I can't predict the future. You know Divination is a rather imprecise branch of magic."

"Sherlock." Violet was very close to growling.

"Fine," he sighed. "There shouldn't be any, however, if there are, I will do my utmost to protect Harry from any and all sights of such."

"Thank you. That's all I can hope for, I suppose. But be sure to keep an eye on him. You know how curious he is about everything."

"Of course." The dial tone in her ear told her that Sherlock had hung up. She shook her head, hoping that Harry wouldn't pick up any of Sherlock's more annoying character traits.

"Sorry about that. That was just Sherlock," she said, slipping her mobile back into her pocket.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Fudge asked, sounding rather strained all of a sudden.

Mentally thanking Sherlock for his timing, and holding back a smile, Violet answered breezily. "Yes, that Sherlock. We're living together. Oh, I suppose you would know his brother, Mycroft."

A strangled smile crossed Fudge's lips. "Yes, we've worked quite closely in the past. Do give him my regards next time you see him, will you?"

"Of course, Minister," she agreed. "But will you be giving your permission for us to go to Azkaban? I do have a few other things on my schedule today."

"Of course, of course," he agreed quickly. "You should take some Aurors with you. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, of course."

"Thank you, Cornelius. I'll arrange for an escort," Amelia said, standing up. The men all did, as well. "Thank you for your time. I'm sure you've got many more important things to look into."

Fudge took that as the dismissal it was. "Of course, yes," he said, looking rather rattled. "Let me know what you find with Black, Amelia."

"Of course, Minister," she agreed. Once Fudge was out of the room, she turned to Violet. "Was that call planned?"

"No, but it was rather fortuitous," Violet grinned. "And Mycroft was my backup plan all along."

"Why does Sherlock's brother have such a power over the Minister of Magic?" Lupin asked, seemingly very confused.

Violet grinned wider. "Mycroft is a rather influential member of the Wizengamot, and he's also the liaison with the Muggle government. It would be the end of Fudge's career if Mycroft suddenly took a dislike to him."

"And Fudge knows it," Amelia added happily. "Bravo, Violet. Now, Moody and Longbottom are waiting for us. They'll be our escort today."

She quickly tapped an ornament on her desk. When it glowed, she spoke into it. "Send Moody and Longbottom in," she ordered.

In less than a minute, a knock sounded at the door. "Enter," Amelia barked.

It opened, and Alice came to face her superior with a quick wink aimed at Violet. Moody, a heavily scarred veteran of the office, stumped his way next to her. "You both know why you're here, where we're going," Amelia began. "Your primary objective is to be a guard for this party. Secondarily, you will observe our interview and give me your thoughts afterwards. I know you both worked closely with Black during his time as an Auror, and I am aware that you not only trained him, Alastor, but you are the one who arrested him three years ago. But I expect you both to be objective and report your observations and thoughts without bias. Your duty is to see justice done, regardless of any personal feelings on your part. Am I understood?"

"Of course, Madame Bones," Alice intoned, while Moody simply grunted his acknowledgement.

"Good." Amelia nodded once decisively. She then waved her wand at the nameplate pronouncing her to be "Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement". It glowed briefly, then she extended it to the others. "This Portkey will take us directly into the office at Azkaban Prison. The warden there is expecting us. As it has a null effect spell on it, you should feel no ill effects from the dementors yet, but once we leave the room, have a Patronus ready. Alright, on three. One. Two."

Violet, who knew her aunt well, braced herself, but the jerk behind her navel still took her breath away. She bent her knees in preparation for the impact, but she still stumbled slightly when the group landed. "I hate Portkeys," she grumbled to Lupin as he helped steady her.

"I prefer Apparating," he agreed.

"There's an Anti-Apparition jinx on this whole island," Dumbledore informed them with amusement.

"Even boats can't get close," Moody growled, giving them, or possibly just Violet, a bit of a glare. "The only way in or out is by Ministry approved Portkey."

"And I'm so glad for that," Alice chirped.

The door opened, and a powerfully built blond man walked through. "Good morning, Madame Bones, everyone. I'm terribly sorry I wasn't here when you arrived, but we had a bit of a disturbance with some of our inmates."

"It's fine, Markwell," Amelia dismissed. "What happened?"

"Just a few inmates getting unruly, nothing out of the ordinary, but because of it, all of our other interrogation rooms are full as well. Should we move Black in here for his interview?"

Violet saw Markwell glance in her direction a few times, and she knew her aunt had. Which gave her quite a good idea of just which inmates had been unruly. "Rodolphus cannot hurt me, I assure you, Warden Markwell. I'll be fine, but thank you for your concern. It is appreciated."

"Are you sure, Violet? The office is big enough," Amelia suggested, concern showing through her professionalism.

"But then someone might say that Sirius performed some sort of wandless magic on us to influence us, since the office doesn't have the magic dampening spell on it that the interrogation rooms do," Violet countered. "No, I don't want anything to prevent Sirius getting out. I'll be fine. And besides, I'm the reason Rodolphus is in here, and why his wife and brother are dead. I should see what my handiwork has wrought."

"I'm afraid it's more than just LeStrange in the rooms," Warden Markwell interjected. "Every single inmate in the rooms is in here because of your actions."

"Which means I'm the one who arrested them," Moody spoke, a wry smile twisting what was left of his mouth. "We'll be celebrities."

His reaction bolstered Violet a bit more. "I'll be fine, Warden. After all, the worst any of them can do is talk. And I'm sure I've heard most of what they have to say already."

"As you wish," he said, inclining his head in acknowledgement as he opened the door. "Now, Black is in the furthest room. He would have been in the first, but the others caused their ruckus as we were going for him."

The company filed out of the office, pausing to cast a Patronus before they passed through the door. It was a difficult spell for Violet normally, finding a happy thought to fuel it was never easy, but her apprehension over what she was about to face caused her to merely fire a silvery mist. Squaring her shoulders, she ruthlessly shoved any negative emotions down and focused on her happy memory. A smile came to her lips as she remembered the burst of love and warmth caused by Harry throwing his little arms around her and announcing that he loved her for the first time. Her silver jaguar burst forth, then wound its way around her legs, like some sort of overgrown housecat.

Once everyone had their guardian, they set forth toward the interrogation rooms. Each one was a square of bars, magically spelled to resist any force, and all but one had eight inmates shackled to the walls. And in the first was a face that had haunted Violet's dreams for years. "Why, if it isn't my treacherous sister-in-law," Rodolphus hissed. "Come to see your good work?"


	13. Chapter 13

Violet sucked in a quick breath, before grinning widely. "Hello, Rodolphus. Enjoying your new accommodations?"

"Blood traitor!" he roared, spittle flying everywhere. Several other inmates joined in the cacophony, calling her every variation of blood traitor possible.

"You lads aren't terribly original, are you?" Alice chimed in, looking completely at ease, but Violet could see her grip on her wand was tight, white-knuckled, at seeing the man who had almost destroyed her family.

"Yes, I've heard all this before. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have important things we actually need to do," Violet stated, walking toward the cell where Sirius was being held.

"The Dark Lord will rise again," Rodolphus said, hysterical promise coloring his words. "He has gone further down the path of immortality than anyone before! And when he does rise, I'll be rewarded for my faithful service. He'll give me anything I ask for. And the only thing I'll ask for is for you to see that little brat nephew of yours killed, and then to be allowed to kill you myself. It will be gloriously slow and I can even convince you to like it."

A fist flashed out and caught him directly in the face, and Rodolphus went down, dangling from the shackles at his wrists. "He was going for my wand," Moody growled lowly, calmly recasting his Patronus as if nothing of consequence had happened.

"That's what it looked like from here," Lupin agreed. Alice nodded enthusiastically, and Warden Markwell smirked.

Dumbledore looked like he would object, but Amelia cut him off. "I'd swear to it. Now, we're wasting time. Let's talk to Black so we can get him out of here." She led the way before any argument could be made, not that anyone was inclined to do so after that.

In the fourth and final interrogation room stood a solitary man in the customary prison robes. His head was bowed, lank black hair curtaining his face. But as the others came closer, his head jerked up, identifying each one, before intently, manically focusing on Violet. "Violet, do you have him? Surely by now, you've got Ha-"

Amelia swiftly cut him off. "Mr. Black, I must ask that you say nothing more until we have the privacy wards up." Sirius nodded, looking rather chagrined, though still a bit crazed.

Once everyone entered the cell, Warden Markwell tapped his wand in a complicated pattern, and a shimmering glow crawled up the walls until it encased them. All the occupants of the room watched, slightly entranced. And the moment it closed over them, Sirius spoke again, not even noticing the shackles falling from his wrists. "You have Harry now, right, Violet? He's living with you, isn't he? Not with Petunia?"

"Of course, Sirius," she assured with a gentle smile. "He's been with me since the day after Rabastan's death."

"Did she treat him right?" he asked anxiously.

She hesitated, not wanting to burden him more, as well as not wanting to tell so many others such personal details. In the end, she gave an abbreviated version, vowing to tell Sirius the whole story as soon as they could be alone. "No, not really. She and her horrible husband never loved him, or showed him any sort of kindness. They referred to him as Freak or Boy. It's a wonder Harry even knew his own name."

Sirius, who had already been pale, now looked ashy. "We should have been there for him. If I hadn't gone after Peter, he would have been with me this whole time. I failed him."

"We both did," she said quietly. "But I'm doing everything I can to make up for that on my end. And that's why we're here, Sirius, so we can work towards getting you out of here. Then you can spend time with Harry whenever you want."

Amelia took over at this point. "Mr. Black, new evidence has come to light in your case, as has the fact that you never received a trial upon your arrest."

"What new evidence?" Sirius seemed perplexed.

"Me," Violet said simply, smiling wider for him. "I'm so sorry it's taken this long for me to help you. But I didn't really follow what happened after Lily and James died. I was a bit destroyed, and living with their murderer's closest followers. But that's no excuse. I'm so sorry, Sirius."

"You had to do what you did to continue bringing down the Death Eaters. I don't blame you, Vi," he told her. His tone suggested that there were others he did blame, and they were standing in the room with him.

Lupin huffed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I should have trusted you. I knew you wouldn't have betrayed James and Lily, and you would have died before letting anything happen to Harry. I'm so sorry. It was just… just simpler to believe, and I never thought that you lot would have changed Secret Keepers. I'm sorry, Padfoot."

That name jolted Violet, though no one else seemed to notice. They were all busy watching Sirius. He stared at Lupin, working things through his mind. Finally, he spoke. "We thought you were the spy, Moony. You were gone so much, and now I can see it was for Dumbledore, but at the time, it seemed suspicious. And Wor-Pettigrew kept pushing the thought, over and over. James and Lily didn't, of course, but I couldn't help it. I'm sorry, Moony. I'm so sorry."

Without another word, Lupin crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Sirius. He kept his arms around his friend, who kept sobbing, "It's my fault, Moony. It's all my fault."

Lupin, however, contradicted him. "It's Pettigrew's fault. And we will find him, and he will pay," he said, conviction in every word. Violet doubted he meant to bring Pettigrew into the Ministry for trial, and she wholeheartedly agreed. In fact, she would help find the traitor who had signed her sister's death warrant.

Sirius finally calmed down enough for them to continue their discussion. But there was someone else who owed an apology. "I, too, am sorry, Sirius, for ever doubting you," Dumbledore said humbly. "I should have trusted you, but I'm afraid I let the popular belief to sway my judgement. And I apologize for not insisting on your trial. It was a grave miscarriage of justice, and it never should have happened. I am truly sorry, my dear boy."

It was a bit grudging, but Sirius nodded slowly in acceptance.

Amelia huffed once. "Now that's all out of the way, will you please tell us what happened, Mr. Black? Starting with when the Potters went into hiding, all the way to your arrest, please." She conjured parchment and a self-inking recording quill, which stood at the ready.

Sirius nodded again, taking a deep breath. But before he could start, Violet conjured him a squashy chair, then one for herself. "This might take a while, and we might as well be comfortable," she said.

Sirius settled into his seat, giving Violet a grateful smile, as the rest, with the exception of the Aurors, conjured their own chairs. "Dumbledore told James and Lily of a prophecy that told of a baby born at the end of July who would have the power to destroy Voldemort," he began, concentrating hard. "Harry was born July 31st, and the Longbottom's baby the day before." Here, everyone turned to Alice, who was clenching her jaw and wand nearly hard enough to break both. "So both families went into hiding in June, shortly before the babies' first birthdays. James and Lily moved to Godric's Hollow, and only five other people knew that. Dumbledore, Vi, Remus, myself, and Pettigrew." The last name was said in a snarl. "We all visited as much as possible, trying to keep their spirits up, but it was the middle of the war. We were all doing our part, so we couldn't spend much time with them. James, especially, hated not being able to do anything to help. And then, in the middle of October, Dumbledore came to us. He told us there was a spy in our circle, and that the Potters weren't safe. He suggested the Fidelius Charm, offered to do it himself. But James and Lily asked me. They knew Vi couldn't do it, and Remus was out of the country at the time, and nobody would have picked Pettigrew as a first choice. So I agreed. But when it came time to do it, I realized I was the obvious choice. Everyone knew James was like a brother to me, and I was an Auror, I could take care of myself. So I convinced James and Lily to use Pettigrew instead. And a week later, they were dead." Sirius's voice cracked on the last word, but he carried on, seemingly oblivious to the tears streaming down his face. "I was, I was supposed to check on Peter that night, but he wasn't home. I knew something was wrong, so I went to Godric's Hollow. I saw the house, half blown up, and James was there in the doorway. I couldn't leave him like that, all sprawled out, he didn't even have his wand, his glasses were knocked off. So I straightened him up, put his glasses back on, found his wand. Took him outside in front of Lily's roses. I knew what I would find inside, but I had to do it. I checked the ground floor, but Lily and Harry weren't there. James had made an emergency Portkey, just in case, and they kept it in Harry's nursery, so I headed there next. But I saw Lily's wand on the couch, and I knew they couldn't have left without it. You still have to tap the Portkey with your wand, and she didn't have it. She didn't have her wand. And that's when I heard Harry. He was crying for his Mumma, so I ran up the stairs to his nursery. Lily was there, in front of his cot. She looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut. And there was Harry, crying, with blood running down his face, crying for his Mumma to wake up. But he saw me and stopped crying, so I picked him up. I tried to fix his face, but it wouldn't close like normal. The best I could do was slow the blood. I took him and Lily outside, with James. And that's when Hagrid came and took Harry away. I tried to keep him, but Hagrid wouldn't let me. I tried! I tried to keep Harry with me, but Hagrid said it was Dumbledore's orders, that he was to take him to Petunia's where he would be safe. I thought it would be safe for him, the safest, so I let him go, but only until it was all over. I gave him my motorbike, and he took Harry, and I went after Pettigrew."

Violet was barely holding her sobs in, with Amelia gently holding her hand. Remus cried, as well, all the while looking murderously terrifying. Dumbledore conjured a handkerchief for himself, then another, which he handed to Sirius. Alice was sniffling quietly in her corner, and even Markwell and Moody were a bit misty eyed.

It took several moments for Sirius to regain control of himself to begin his story again. "It took me two days to track Peter down, the slippery git. And when I did, it was in the middle of Muggle Dublin. I realize now that he planned for it, to be in the middle of Muggles who couldn't protect themselves. He screamed something about me betraying James and Lily, then before I could do anything, he blew up the street behind him, cut off his own finger, and transformed. I was so stunned that all I could do was laugh. We all disregarded him, underestimated him, and that's how he fooled us all."

"You say Pettigrew transformed," Amelia began. "In what way?"

"He's an Animagus," came from Remus, who shook his head in regret. "A rat, appropriately."

That news shook the others in the room."There hasn't been a registered Animagus in years," Amelia countered thoughtfully.

"There were three running around Hogwarts for three years," Sirius said, the ghost of a smile on his face. "James and I did it, then we helped Peter do it."

"But why? It's terribly dangerous to do it without supervision," Violet protested.

"They did it for me," Remus said softly, and instant understanding flooded her.

Dumbledore looked rather disappointedly disapproving, but Amelia cut him off once more. "That's all well and good, Mr. Black, to say that, but can you prove it?"

Sirius shook like a dog, like he was trying to shake bad thoughts off, and then there was a giant dog sitting in his chair. "Is that proof enough for you, Madame?" Remus asked, the first sign of a smile all morning.

"Yes, I should think so," she said incredulously.

Sirius, or rather Padfoot, Violet gathered, shook again and was a man once more. "Is that enough proof?" he asked anxiously. "Enough to get me out of here?"

Amelia nodded slowly. "I think with your testimony, and that of Violet and Mr. Lupin, we should be able to get you out. It will take time, but I'm recommending your removal to the minimum security wing, starting immediately. It's not much, but it should help. I can't promise anything however. This was only the beginning of the formal investigation. "

"I understand," Sirius said quickly. "I'm just grateful you were willing to come at all."

"You can thank Violet and Mr. Lupin," she said with a smile. Standing, she Banished her chair, and the others followed suit. "If it weren't for them going through old photographs, we might not have discovered this fiasco, possibly not for years. Now, Warden, see to it that Mr. Black is moved to the minimum security wing. I'm convinced that he doesn't need to endure the Dementors any longer."

"Of course, Madame. I'll do that as soon as I see you all out," Markwell assured.

"We'll be seeing you soon, mate," Remus said, hugging his friend again. "I'll come as often as I can."

"I'll make arrangements for you to be allowed," Amelia promised.

"And before you know it, you can see Harry," Violet reminded. "Maybe even before Christmas."

Sirius went to hug her, as well, before suddenly changing to a handshake. "I'd love that," he whispered.

Goodbyes were said among the others that had known Sirius previously, then each filed out, pausing briefly to cast their Patronus at the door. The warden was the last out, reversing the privacy wards as he went.

Violet, who was just in front of him, caught sight of yet another familiar face in the next cell. It's just my lucky day, she thought, as the man opened his mouth to speak. "Filthy Half Blood, Blood Traitor," he spat. "My wife was a fool to ever trust you."

Violet smiled wickedly. "Funny, I thought the same thing when she married you, Lucius. And you do realize she only married you to get your money, right?" Moody coughed, though Violet was sure it was a laugh in disguise. "I mean, you had to have noticed that Narcissa didn't attend your trial. Now, enjoy living the rest of your life in a tiny cell. But thank you for reminding me that I need to visit my godson. It's been a while."

Violet was sure she would remember the look of pure, flabbergasted horror on Lucius Malfoy's face for the rest of her life.

Once back in the warden's office, everyone started in on their prepared chocolate to counteract the Dementors' effect. "Now, I'm sure you lot are aware that there was sensitive information discussed today," Amelia warned under the guise of polite conversation. "None of you are to speak of Harry Potter being in Violet's custody unless it is with her express permission, or another member of this group only. There are still sympathizers of Voldemort out there, and his safety is paramount."

Every member of the party nodded solemnly, and Violet hid a smirk at her aunt's authoritative behavior. But in the next moment, that was the farthest thing from her mind, as her mobile rang. The caller ID said St Mungo's Hospital, and her stomach dropped to the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

Violet answered her mobile quickly, even with her hands shaking so badly she almost hung up instead of answering. "Violet Evans," she said tersely.

"Ms. Evans, this is Meg Thwistle from St. Mungo's Hospital," the woman on the other end of the line began. "We've got Harry Potter here, and-"

"What's wrong with Harry? Where's Sherlock?" Violet demanded.

"Well, there's a man here, says his name is Sherlock Holmes, but he's not on Mr. Potter's charts, so we can't allow him in with Mr. Potter," the woman said hesitantly.

"Oh, merciful Merlin," Violet sighed. "Is he tall, good looking, and insufferably arrogant?"

"Um, yes," Meg answered, surprised.

"Then it's him. I give him permission to be with Harry."

"Well, um, I need to verify your identity, as well." Meg sounded uncomfortable, but resolute.

"Sweet Circe," Violet muttered under her breath. "Look, I've got Director Bones of the DMLE here. Would she be enough of a character witness, or do you require Professor Dumbledore? I've got him here, as well."

"Um, no, I suppose that's alright," she said quickly, now sounding a bit intimidated.

"May I speak with Sherlock, please?" Violet asked, but her tone let everyone know she wasn't really asking.

A bit of rustling sounded in her ear, before Sherlock said, "Vi? I'm so sorry! He went up to his room, just for a second, I swear-"

"What's wrong with Harry?" Violet interrupted his ramblings. "How is he hurt?"

He sighed, before speaking very quickly again. "He broke his arm. He slipped going down the stairs from his room, he was bringing toys down to share with Rosie and he had too many in his arms to see where he was going. And he just slipped. He just slipped, Vi. I never meant for him to get hurt."

"I know, Sherlock. I know you would never do anything to hurt him. Do you need me to come right away?" she asked in a gentler tone, now that she knew it wasn't anything too serious.

Sherlock spoke again, a bit more slowly. "No, I think it will be alright. Just finish at the Ministry. What you're doing is important. I'll just take him home once we're done here. John and Rosie are still there probably."

"If you're sure," she asked leadingly.

"I'm sure. We'll be fine until you get home."

"Alright then, go to our boy and I'll see you when I get home."

As she slipped her mobile back into her bag, Violet noticed that her aunt had a rather knowing look on her face. She chose to ignore it, however, in favor of leaving Azkaban as quickly as possible. After all, the sooner she finished with this, the sooner she could get home to her boys. "What all do we have to do to free Sirius, Auntie?"

Amelia immediately straightened, professional mask slipping into place once more. "I will need reports from you two Aurors as to your thoughts on Black's remarks, and his character during the War. Markwell, I'll need you to report on his behavior since he's been incarcerated, as well as your judgements of what we learned today. Violet, Dumbledore, Mr. Lupin, you'll need to write up your parts. But once we have all that, it shouldn't take long."

Violet spoke up again. "If you'll send me a copy of the case against him, I can have Sherlock take a look at it. He should be able to help. After all, it's what he does for a living."

Amelia nodded. "I'll send it home with you. Now, unless anyone objects, I suggest we all go back to the Ministry. I've had quite enough of this loathsome place, however nice your office is, Warden."

"I must admit that I find it loathsome, as well," Markwell agreed amiably. "I've just gotten somewhat used to it."

Amelia nodded, tapping the nameplate once more with her wand. The visitors gathered around it, touching it to make the journey back to the Ministry. Remus excused himself quickly, as did Dumbledore, while Alice and Moody waited to be dismissed by Amelia. She did so, then turned to Violet. "Eat more chocolate," she ordered. "You're far too pale still."

Violet did as she was told, knowing that no good would come of arguing. "Is Harry alright?" Amelia asked, concern coloring her words. "You're not rushing off this very minute, but you did sound rather worried on the phone."

Violet swallowed her current piece of chocolate before answering. "He slipped on the stairs and broke his arm. The Healers should have it mended in a trice, but it's still the first time Harry's been seriously hurt, at least since he's been with me. I'm a bit more of a worrier than I realized, I suppose," she said with a self-deprecating smile.

"Motherhood will do that," Amelia answered. "And speaking of mothers, mine told me to inform you that your presence is requested at the monthly family tea. She wants to meet Harry and your young man," she added, waving her wand to make a copy of Sirius's file.

"Sherlock isn't my young man," Violet argued, taking the file and slipping it into her bag.

Amelia only quirked an amused eyebrow. "And yet you knew exactly who I meant. Curious. But it doesn't matter anyway. I was merely relaying Mother's instructions. She said she's given you plenty of time to adjust, and now you must be a part of the family once again. And she wants to meet her newest grandson."

"Even though Harry isn't her biological grandson?" Now it was Violet's turn to quirk an eyebrow.

"You're raising him, so he's as good as. And I'll be bringing Susan, who she treats as her own," she reminded. "Daniel's two will be there, as well, so there will be plenty of playmates for Harry."

"He will probably be shy," Violet warned. "He's still a bit leery of strangers."

Amelia shook her head sadly. "The poor boy. But it doesn't matter. He'll get used to the family quick enough."

After assuring her aunt that at least she and Harry would attend the family tea, Violet headed out to the lifts. As she wasn't accompanied by the head of the DMLE and one of the top Aurors, she had to endure several wary side glances from those she passed. But, she admitted to herself, probably far less than if Alice hadn't spoken up for her.

She quickly made her way to the Ministry's public Apparition point, spinning the moment she reached it. She paused a moment upon arrival to Transfigure her clothes into the top and pants from earlier, then strode out to the road. A black car was idling just in front, and she grinned as she slid into the back seat. "Tell Mycroft thank you for me, will you?" she told the driver.

"Of course, Ms. Evans," he said courteously. And not another word was exchanged for the rest of the ride.

Violet opened the door at Baker Street just in time to see Mrs. Hudson start up the stairs with a large pot in her hands. "Oh, I'm so glad you're home," she gushed. "Little Harry is going to need some extra love today. I made a pot of my famous onion and garlic soup, just the thing when a little one's not feeling well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," Violet said in surprise. "That's so sweet of you."

"Oh, it's nothing," the landlady said, brushing the words aside, but Violet could see her swell with the adulation.

Once in the flat, both women immediately pushed Sherlock and John out of the way to begin fussing over Harry, who waved his magically healed arm to show them, without saying magic, of course. Mary looked on in amusement, keeping little Rosie out of their way for the moment. But Sherlock was eyeing his landlady suspiciously. "But how did you know Harry had been hurt?" he began probingly. "We never left the flat."

To which Mrs. Hudson snorted derisively. "If you think I can't recognize the sound of Apparition, you're more daft than I thought, Sherlock Holmes."

"You know 'bout magic, Mrs. Husson?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Of course I do, love," she said, smoothing his hair from his face. "I'm a muggleborn, after all. And I knew that Sherlock would only risk Apparating inside the flat if something had happened to you." She then gave a smug look to the four other adults, who were all displaying varying shades of astonishment.

"You knew, this whole time?" Sherlock finally managed to ask.

"Of course I did," she huffed.

"And you never thought to mention it?" he continued.

"I thought the great detective Sherlock Holmes could figure it out, surely, but apparently, I was wrong."

Violet laughed. "Well, I for one am never going to the Apparition point ever again. We can redo the wards to allow just us in."

After a dinner of Mrs. Hudson's soup, which worked nearly as well as chocolate to drive away the last lingering effects of the Dementors, all of them stayed close by. Violet, at least, didn't want to take her eyes off Harry, even as he played with Rosie. The adults were all rather introspective, only speaking a bit here and there, and mostly it was aimed at the children to be careful. So it came as quite a surprise when Sherlock, who had been in his mind palace since he ate three spoonfuls of soup, spoke up. What he said ended up being even more surprising. "Violet, you should marry me."

Violet simply blinked at him stupidly. "That's really not the way to do it, mate," John said lowly.

"At least not if you want her to say yes," Mary added.

That was enough to bring her out of her stupor. "Should I be expecting a daisy ring in the near future?" she teased, then clarified for the others in the room. "That's what I gave him when I proposed, at the age of eight. Though, he did turn me down for a life of piracy."

Utter confusion was written on Sherlock's face. "What? No, don't be an idiot."

"Definitely not the way to do it," John muttered, but Sherlock simply ignored him.

"No, I meant for you to marry me so I could have a legal claim on Harry, should something like today happen again. I'm not being stupidly romantic," he spat.

"Well, that's quite obvious," Mary observed quietly.

Violet, however, was processing what she'd just been told. "So you want me to marry you so you can take care of Harry, should I not be there for whatever reason?"

"Yes," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And for you, as well. I doubt St. Mungo's would allow me to help you otherwise, either."

"Alright, I'll marry you," she said, nodding once. "After all, you can't possibly be worse than my last husband," she added with a grin.

Sherlock scowled. "I'd like to think that I'm rather an improvement over LeStrange."

"Yes, you would," Violet teased. John and Mary laughed uproariously at his pout, while Mrs. Hudson happily twittered about wedding plans.


	15. Chapter 15

As it so happened, the next Sunday was the last of the month, the day of the Greengrass family tea. Sherlock surprisingly went along without a fuss, stating that as Violet's fiance, it really was the proper thing to do. So the three of them dressed in their Sunday best and Flooed to Greengrass Castle, where an ancient house elf, dressed in a neat dress made of embroidered handkerchiefs, met them. "Welcomes to Greengrass Castle, Mr. Sherlock, Mr. Harry. Welcomes back, Missy Violet. Yous has been missed," Mokey said, her tiny voice quavery with age.

"Thank you, Mokey," Violet said kindly, ridding Harry of soot from the journey. "Is Grandmother in the parlor?"

"She's beings in the Sun Room, Missy Violet," Mokey answered. "Drinks is ready for yous in there."

"Thank you, Mokey," Sherlock replied, smiling kindly to the tiny elf, who grinned happily at him. Harry waved shyly, but said nothing, clinging rather desperately to Violet's hand instead. After all, house elves were a bit strange to someone who had never seen one before.

The three humans made their way to the Sun Room, with Violet pointing out various things of interest to Harry along the way. He looked with fascination at everything around him, but was content to continue holding onto Violet.

"Now this is my very favorite room in the whole castle, Harry," Violet said conspiratorially. "Are you ready to see it?" He nodded eagerly, Sherlock held the door for his companions, and both adults relished the pure awe and joy that crossed his face at the sight that awaited them.

The Sun Room, as its name implied, was a spacious conservatory, with three walls and the ceiling all made of glass. Magic was obviously used in its construction, as there were no seams, nothing to obscure one's view of the surrounding area. Inside, thousands of plants grew, magical mixed in with the ordinary. And, in the very center of the room, stood a large table and its accompanying chairs, in one of which sat a proud, regal looking elderly lady. She was watching them with a closely held amusement.

"Do you like the Sun Room, Harry?" the elderly lady asked, after giving Harry a moment to take in the room.

Harry, in his amazement at the room, hadn't even realized that there was another person there. He jumped at her words, clinging to Violet again. She smiled encouragingly at him, whispering, "That's my grandmother."

"Oh," was Harry's only reply, but he did untangle himself from Violet's leg and allow her to herd him toward the table. And once there, he very politely said, "Nice t'meet you, Mad'me Greengrass."

"Well, aren't you a little gentleman," she exclaimed, surprised delight coloring her words. "It looks like Violet and Sherlock have taught you well."

"Auntie Vi and Lock are the best!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. In his excitement, he forgot to be shy, coming to stand directly in front of the older lady. "They's taught me big numbers, an' how to write, but just li'l words, an' how ta tie shoes. An' Lock teached me ductions!"

"Deductions," Violet mouthed when faced with her grandmother's inquiring gaze, which instantly turned understanding.

"It seems that you've had quite the education," Madame Greengrass said, turned back to Harry once more. "But I do hope they've taught you a bit about magic, as well."

The little boy instantly nodded solemnly. "We can' talk 'bout it 'round M'ggles, an' if you don' know if somebody has magic, i's best ta no' say anythin' 'bout it. But i's fantastic!" His little face was wreathed in smiles once more. "Auntie Vi makes my teddy dance e'vry night, an' Lock changes his hair colors. I like pink da best." Violet sneaked a glance at Sherlock and was amused to see the tiniest blush on his face. But Harry continued on about his magical education. "An' Lock made the skull on th' fireplace talk, an' he tol' th' funniest story 'bout hippagiffs eating naughty li'l boys, but he promised the hippagiffs would neva eat me 'cause I'm the bestest li'l boy. An' 'sides, Auntie Vi could stop any mean ol' hippagiffs." Now it was Violet's turn to flush slightly, but it was more from the warm, loving emotion filling her at his words.

"Oh, yes, your Auntie Vi would slay any mean monsters that would try to get you," Madame Greengrass assured him, with a meaningful look aimed at Violet.

"Toria, Mummy said to wait for her and Daddy!" The Sun Room's occupants suddenly heard a young voice yelling, followed closely by the sounds of small feet running.

"Can't catch me, Daffee!" another young voice laughed.

"Ah, they are home," Madame Greengrass said, looking distinctly pleased.

"Are you ready to meet your cousins, Harry darling?" Violet asked her nephew.

Harry, at the word "cousins", instantly shrank back against Violet, shaking his head violently. "No cousins!" he wailed, breaking the heart of every adult in the room.

"Oh, darling, they are nothing like Dudley, I promise you that," Violet assured, sweeping him up in her arms. "Daphne and Astoria are perfectly lovely girls, just you wait and see."

"And if you still don't like them after you've met them," Sherlock added quietly, rubbing his back, "we can go straight back to Baker Street and have some of Mrs. Hudson's biscuits."

Violet shot the man an exasperated look, but quickly changed it to an agreeable smile when Harry raised his head to look at her. "Of course, darling. I will never make you do something you don't like. Well, at least not without a very good reason."

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding once decisively. "Alright," he said, wiggling to be let down.

His feet touched the floor just as a tiny blonde figure rocketed around the corner. "Gran'mama!" she cried, throwing her arms around Madame Greengrass. "I misseded you so much! France was pwetty, but I still wanted ta come home. Why you couldn' come wif?"

"Because I am very old, Astoria, and I can't travel as easily as you anymore," the elderly woman said, smiling brightly. "But I did miss you dreadfully. And you, as well, Daphne dear," she added as a second little girl joined in the hug. "But you two are being frightfully rude. You haven't even greeted your cousin, Violet, or noticed that she brought guests with her."

Thoroughly scolded, both girls turned to the others in the room. "I's good to see you again, Vi'let," Astoria grinned.

"Hi, Violet," Daphne said quietly, smiling shyly as well.

"Hello, girls," Violet smiled back. "I brought some people to meet you. Would you like that?" she asked, keeping her hand comfortingly on Harry's back the whole time. Both girls nodded, eyes flicking between the members of the Baker Street trio. "Well, this is my nephew, Harry. Harry, these are my cousins, Daphne and Astoria," she said, and each girl dipped an adorable curtsey when they were named. "And this is my fiance, Sherlock Holmes." The girls curtsied again, giggling as they looked up at the very tall Sherlock.

"And here I thought he wasn't your young man," another voice announced itself. "After all, it was just the other day that you told me that, wasn't it?" Amelia continued, guiding a small brunette along the way to the table, followed by her husband, brother, and sister-in-law.

"It is a recent development," Violet allowed, grimacing slightly at the thought of the teasing she would endure from her family. But she pushed it aside. "Harry, this is my Aunt Amelia, Uncle Edgar, Uncle Daniel, and Aunt Helene, and this is Susan, Aunt Amelia and Uncle Edgar's niece."

Harry waved shyly, causing all the women to melt just a little bit, and Susan smiled back at him, just as shyly. But Astoria, having never felt shy for a moment in her life, quickly grabbed Susan's hand. "C'mon, Suse, we gots ta show Hawwy da toys. He doesn' know where dey awe yet."

Susan was apparently used to being manhandled, so she went with willingly, only pausing to motion for Harry to take her hand. Harry was not used to this, so he glanced questioningly at Violet. "Go with them, love. You'll have fun, and Lock and I will be right here." That seemed to assured him, for he went with the girls without another hesitation.

Now left with just the other adults, Violet began to feel distinctly pressured. To diffuse that slightly, she introduced Sherlock to Helene, the one person he hadn't met before. "C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer," he said, kissing her hand politely.

Helene smiled happily. "And you, as well, Monsieur Holmes. You must keep this one, Violet. He actually knows French, unlike the last one. And his name was even French," she said, distaste evident in her voice.

"Yes, well, Sherlock is rather better in nearly every respect," Violet replied in amusement.

"Not all?" Sherlock questioned archly.

"Rabastan never left his experiments on the dining table," Violet quipped back. She was the only one to see the small, pleased smile he quickly hid.

Tea was served shortly after, with Mokey carefully directing the other house elves in bringing the food to the table. The teapot gave an excited wiggle as its carrier caught sight of Violet. "Mistress Violet!" the elf cried, nearly throwing himself at her feet, but remembering the tea at the last moment.

"Hello, Blimey," she said happily. "Are you settling in here well?"

"Oh, yes, Mistress, yes, Blimey is beings very happy here, yes, he is. But he is wondering that Mistress does not need him with her?"

Violet paused, not quite sure what to say to the small creature at her feet. "Blimey, the family is needings to eat now," Mokey, the head house elf, corrected gently.

The little elf shook himself. "I's so sorry, Mistress. Blimey pours tea now," he said dejectedly.

"I promise I will call you when I need you, Blimey," Violet assured him. "And there is no need to punish yourself. You did nothing wrong."

He nodded and poured the tea, still seeming rather despondent. Then he went to stand in the line of house elves along the wall, waiting for any of the family to need something.

"Your elf's name is Blimey?" Sherlock's breath ghosted across Violet's neck, causing a shiver to run through her.

She ignored it, however, in favor of answering him. "Have you ever seen a newborn house elf?" She shuddered again. "They aren't the prettiest things, and I was so surprised when Rabastan presented him to me for my birthday that the only thing I could think of was blimey. Poor thing thought it was his name, and so now he only answers to it."

Sherlock shook with silent laughter for a moment, but when the others looked to Violet in question, she merely looked back innocently. Not that it fooled anyone, of course.

The meal passed pleasantly, with everyone trying to include the newcomers as much as possible. The three girls were just as enthralled as Harry when Sherlock started to explain his latest case, but Violet quickly put a stop to it upon remembering just how grisly the body had become. All five of them pouted at her, though the other adults seemed rather grateful.

"So when is the wedding, Vi?" Daniel asked, once the children had been excused to go play once more.

Violet looked to Sherlock quickly, but he was of no help, texting quickly on his mobile. Apparently, he was done being polite, she thought ruefully. "We haven't set a date just yet," she replied.

"You simply must give us at least a year to properly prepare," Madame Greengrass stated imperiously. "After all, the guest list and seating will take at least two weeks themselves."

"There's no need for that," Violet said quickly, noting the amused looks her aunts and uncles wore.

Madame Greengrass puffed up, ready for battle. "Of course there is, child. That's the way we do it."

"And I've already done it that way once, Grandmama. Once was more than enough for me. Besides, some of our guests will be Muggles, several of whom know nothing of magic."

Her grandmother deflated visibly. "Well, you'll still wear the tiara, won't you?" she asked archly.

Violet nodded shortly, immensely touched. After all, she hadn't been offered the use of it for her first wedding. The offer, she knew, meant that Grandmama approved of Sherlock.

"Good. The gardens are particularly beautiful in June," the matriarch hinted broadly.

"Thank you for the offer," Violet smiled, just as broadly. "We'll discuss it."

Just as everyone was saying goodbye, Amelia sidled up to Violet. "The Wizengamot will be convening on Tuesday to review Sirius's case. You and Sherlock will both be needed to testify."

"Of course," Violet said, instantly sobering. "How does it look for him, professionally speaking?"

Amelia took a moment before answering, her signature move when seriously contemplating something of importance. "I'd say he has a very good case, solid, even. With your testimony, given your history, and Dumbledore amending his, I doubt that there will be a problem. Add Sherlock's insight, along with Moody and Longbottom, I have good hopes of Mr. Black being a free man. But the Wizengamot are a fickle group. You never know when one of them will act like someone pissed in their pumpkin juice."

Violet snorted back a laugh. "Well, we'll just have to see about that. I'm sure Mycroft could be of some use for once."

"He does seem to terrify most members of the government," Amelia agreed with a smile.

That night, Harry couldn't seem to stop talking about his new cousins. "I think I like cousins now," he told Violet. "At least if they're girls. But Storia's a bit bossy."

Violet laughed. "That she is, love. But she's still nice, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," was his simple response. "She made me be th' knight, when I wan'ed ta be the horse. Daffee has lo's a books, with piccures that move! An' Suse knows all kinds of plants. I think I like them."

"I'm so glad, my darling," Violet grinned, kissing his forehead. "You'll get to play with them again, but right now, it's time for bed. Goodnight, love."

"'Night, Auntie. I love you."

The warm glow his simple words caused Violet to feel as if she were floating on her way down the stairs from his room.


	16. Chapter 16

"Alright, darling, are you ready to visit Rosie?" Violet, who was fastening her earring, asked a terribly excited Harry. Who happened to be at the door with his coat on, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.

"Yes! Le's go, Auntie! C'mon, Lock!" Harry was now trying to shoo both adults out the door.

"Yes, let's go," Sherlock said, scooping the little boy up and heading to the fireplace.

"We can' Floo to the Wassons, Lock. They're M'ggles," Harry explained, very patient.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, pretending to be astonished.

"Lock!" Harry scolded, but it was rather ineffective, as his giggles nearly drowned out his word.

"As it so happens, Lock knows someone who connected the Watsons' fireplace for us," Violet explained, grinning in happiness at her boys.

"So we don' haffa take a taxi anymore?" Harry asked, upside down in Sherlock's arms.

"I'm never taking another taxi if I can help it," Violet laughed. "But Lock will have to when he's pretending to be a Muggle."

"I only do it to allay suspicion on cases dealing with Muggles," the man in question said, lighting the fire with a squint of his eyes. "Would you like to say it, Harry? You know the Watsons' address."

The little boy's eyes widened with the sudden responsibility. "Number 12 Marylebone Road, right?" he said, carefully enunciating each word.

"Brilliant."

Sherlock's praise brought the smile back to Harry's face. "I c'n do it," he said resolutely.

"Then you can throw the powder, as well, I think," Violet pronounced, winding her thick green scarf around her neck as she did. "And remember to hold onto Lock very tightly, alright?"

"I know, Auntie," Harry said in a very weary, much put upon tone, as he straightened and reached for the little pot on the mantle, right next to the skull.

Sherlock laughed, far too amused, in Violet's opinion. "Now, what did we talk about in regards to travelling with a lady?" he asked.

"She should always go first, unless there's a possabilly a danger," Harry recited promptly.

"Very good," Sherlock said warmly. "Now, do you think there may be danger waiting for us at the Watsons' flat?"

"No!" Harry laughed easily.

Sherlock nodded. "I agree, so we should let Auntie Vi go first, don't you think?"

Harry nodded emphatically, holding the Floo pot out to Violet. "I'll see you in just a minute," she said, quickly kissing his cheek as she grabbed a pinch of the stuff. With a shout and a roar of flame, she stepped into the fireplace, instantly spinning rapidly. Thankfully, the Watsons' flat was a short trip away, and the spinning didn't last long.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Violet siphoned any excess soot off her clothes, smiling at the sight of Mary and Rosie playing nearby. "Hello, ladies," she greeted.

Both Watson women only had time to smile at Violet before Sherlock stepped through, Harry still in his arms. And as Violet rid them both of soot, as well, a piercing, happy cry came from Rosie. "Reeeee!"

Harry pushed against Sherlock to get down, and the instant his feet touched the ground, he was running to his best friend. The two children hugged tightly, before babbling happily to one another in a language only they knew.

Mary laughed a sigh. "I should have known. Rosie's been crying for Ree for days now, and we had no idea what she wanted. I'm just glad she was saying Mama before meeting Harry, since there's no competing with him."

"Harry is rather fantastic," Violet shrugged, unapologetic.

Mary grinned. "That he is."

"Thank you, again, for watching him today," Violet said.

"Not a problem." It was Mary's turn to shrug. "As you can see, Rosie's ecstatic to play with him, and it's not as if he's a hard kid. And I know this is important, getting his wrongly accused uncle? Godfather? Whatever free. We'll just be here whenever you're done, and we'll all have dinner. And by dinner, I mean I'll get take away. No one would survive if I cooked."

With a laugh, Sherlock and Violet said their goodbyes, then spun on their heels. Twin barely audible cracks announced their reappearance in the Ministry Atrium. Many people stared, as Apparition directly into the Ministry was a privilege awarded to very few.

Both Violet and Sherlock straightened minisculely, knowing that they were, in essence, on stage from that point forward. Not that they weren't anticipating it, quite the opposite, in fact. Every aspect of their appearances were carefully crafted to remind everyone just who they were. Sherlock's impeccably tailored robes in deep blue reflected the traditional Holmes colors, while Violet's robes of dark green did the same for the Greengrass family. Her jewelry, however, consisted of a tasteful parure, earrings and a necklace only, of Holmes sapphires. And as she gracefully slipped her arm through Sherlock's proffered elbow, she knew everyone knew that they were together. "It's always fun to make people stare, isn't it, darling?" she purred lowly, but with vast satisfaction.

"That it is, my dear," Sherlock replied, barely managing to hide the smirk from his lips. But not from his eyes. "Though now we owe Mycroft for this ease of entry."

The two of them headed directly to the lifts, watching many nearly diving to move out of their way. "I'm sure he'll think of something, a case that he needs your help with, soon enough," she said. "But as long as he helps us get Sirius free, it'll be worth it."

A watchwizard stopped them just before the lifts. "I'm sorry, but you'll need to register at the security desk, just like all the other visitors."

Violet shared an amused glance with Sherlock, dipping her head in his direction. After all, she did owed him for helping Sirius, as well. Sherlock's smirk slipped out for a brief second, before turning stone cold eyes onto the unlucky man in front of them. "You must be new here," he said cuttingly. "After all, those shoes aren't even broken in yet, and those robes are far too crisp. Have to be new, as they are hardly the quality to retain that crispness. Though you are trying to impress someone with your position. A new girlfriend, perhaps? I'd get rid of her, if I were you, since she's only seeing you to get your security access."

The man gasped at him, face flushing in anger. "How could you possibly-"

Violet didn't even wait for him to finish the question. "Your security pass has been copied. It's still got the residue of a Gemino charm hanging round it."

The poor man glanced between the pair of them and his pass, as if one of them might tell him how they knew that. And a fairly large crowd had begun to form around them all, as everyone was far more interested in what was going on than the lifts waiting.

"Now, brother mine, you just had to make a scene."

Mycroft's honeyed tones sent the crowd quickly scurrying, leaving only Sherlock, Violet, and the unfortunate watchwizard. "Marius, these are the ones I told you didn't need to visit the security booth. And do break up with Laura. I've just now come from dealing with her trying to get into the Aurors' office, where she intended to leave several rather personal photographs of herself for Auror Jacobs. I trust you won't let something like this happen in the future."

"N-no, of course not, Mr. Holmes." The poor man was now ashen, but from fear of Mycroft and losing his job or the embarrassment of having his girlfriend's infidelity broadcast, Violet wasn't sure. Most probably both, she concluded.

"Violet, always good to see you," Mycroft lied, kissing her cheek in a show of familial solidarity.

The three continued the pleasantries as they entered a lift. "You were aware of his girlfriend's copying his pass, weren't you?" Sherlock asked the moment the golden grilles closed and the lift began to move.

"Of course," Mycroft scoffed. "I was merely waiting to see what her plans for it were. Miss Smith isn't the brightest charm in the classroom, but even the dimmest can cause problems. And I'd rather like to know about them than have them surprise me. I've never liked surprises," he sniffed, straightening his plum robes in disgust.

"You Holmes boys have always hated surprises," Violet laughed.

Both men scowled identically. "It's an affront to my intelligence if I manage to somehow allow a surprise. Unless it comes from someone like Moriarty, whose intelligence nearly matches my own," Sherlock said with disdain.

"I've surprised you," Violet countered stubbornly.

"Name one time," he demanded.

"I could name several," Mycroft smiled.

"No one asked you," Sherlock pouted.

The lift reaching the tenth level put a stop to any further arguing. In sync, the three straightened again as the grilles opened, allowing their exit. The hall to the dungeons were filled with people, Wizengamot members, press, and spectators alike. It was a very high profile case, after all, probably the biggest of the year, and everyone wanted to know about it.

Violet spotted Remus, dressed in what was clearly his best, though it was still shabby. He saw them at the same time, waving slightly and making his way towards them. Violet allowed her arm to slip from Sherlock's as he kept going. She, instead, turned to his brother.

"I do appreciate your help on this, Mycroft," she said seriously, after silently casting a spell to prevent anyone else from joining the conversation.

"I see you've gotten back in the habit of wandless magic," he replied, ignoring her comment intentionally. But when she refused to say anything, merely raising her eyebrow, he sighed. "I'm sure justice will be done today."

Violet was having none of his reticence. "I know you've been working others over. You've done it before. Remember, I know all about how you made sure each Death Eater I brought in made it to Azkaban."

"Yes, well, I knew, sooner or later, you would find your way back into Sherlock's life," he said fiercely. "And I didn't want you dragging that garbage with you. I protect my own, Violet."

She was a bit shocked at his sudden ferocity. "I thought sentiment was a weakness, Mycroft," she said softly.

"You and I both know Sherlock was, is, and always will be my biggest weakness. Someone's got to look after the silly boy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to speak with Romulus Trenton. He needs reminding of just who approved his new factory."

Violet watched as Mycroft stalked toward the businessman, all predatory smiles. She was distracted by Sherlock appearing at her elbow. "Is everything alright? Did Mycroft say something to upset you?" he asked lowly, concerned.

She turned to him, smiling widely. "No, of course not. He knows better than to do that in public. Now, let's go get a seat. I'd prefer to not have to climb over people when it comes my time to testify."

Sherlock did as suggested, though he kept glancing worriedly at her the entire walk. Remus joined them, and the three quietly watched as the room filled around them. Sherlock kept the others entertained with deductions about those around them, but kept it low enough that no one else heard. There might have been some curses thrown his way, otherwise.

"May we please have silence in the courtroom?"

Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the room, instantly granting his request. "This is the trial of Sirius Orion Black, on the first of December, two thousand fourteen. Bring in the accused," he continued, beginning the trial immediately. Once Sirius was brought in, looking far more groomed than the last time Violet had seen him, the Auror accompanying him placed him in the chair in the middle of the room. The chains on the chair immediately wrapped themselves around Sirius's arms. "Interrogators: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Greengrass Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court Scribe, Lionel Truman. Witnesses for the defense: Violet Isabelle Evans, Remus John Lupin,. Expert witnesses: William Sherlock Scott Holmes, Alastor Moody, Ian Matthew Markwell, Alice Burke Longbottom. The charges are as follows: terrorist acts as a Death Eater; conspiracy to commit the murders of James, Lily, and Harry Potter; and lastly, the murders of Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles. Sirius Orion Black, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty, of any of the charges, Sir," he said, voice ringing out over the sudden murmurs of the spectators.

"You say you are not guilty of all the charges?" Fudge protested incredulously.

Violet was shaking her head at the stupidity of some people when a very familiar voice cut through the air. "Really, Minister, we all heard him. I doubt you need to repeat what he says, unless you intend to do so for the entirety of the trial."

"See, Mycroft is good for something," Violet murmured in Sherlock's ear, grinning at the tittering laughter that followed his scolding, and Fudge's subsequent flushing.

Dumbledore continued on, outlining the events as the public knew them. "We now call upon Violet Isabelle Evans to take the stand."

Violet stood, inwardly smiling as she felt Sherlock's supportive squeeze to her hand. But she let nothing show on her face. She took the stand with her back straight, head held high. She met Amelia's eye for the slightest moment, but clearly saw the proud approval there.

"Do you, Violet Isabelle Evans, swear to tell nothing but the truth as you know it?" Dumbledore asked her.

"I, Violet Isabelle Evans, do swear on my life and on my magic that nothing but the whole, unreserved truth as I know it shall pass my lips whilst I am on this stand," she said, then allowed the tiniest of smirks to escape her lips as the room erupted in shocked whispers.


	17. Chapter 17

After a moment of gawking, there was no other word for it, Dumbledore cleared his throat and quieted the room again. It took a bit longer this time. "Do you understand the full impact of the oath you just made, Miss Evans?"

"Of course, Chief Warlock," Violet answered, the picture of demure politeness. "It simply means that if I fail to the tell the entire truth as I know it, or lie in anyway, I forfeit my magic and my life."

Another rush of whisperings flooded the dungeon. The oath Violet had sworn was a very old one, the very first administered by the Wizengamot. Over time, it had fallen out of favor, since many politicians decided it was a bit harsh to demand absolute truth, or risk losing their magic and lives. Though Violet wasn't sure which they feared more.

It took quite a bit for Dumbledore to bring the room back to order once more. Violet could see the appraising look in his eyes as he started to question her. "Miss Evans, how do you know the accused?"

"Sirius was best friend to my brother-in-law, James Potter," she began. "He was often at the Potters' when I would visit my sister, Lily."

Whispers cropped up as the spectators began to realize just who else she was related to, but Dumbledore ignored them this time. "And what was his character in the time that you knew him?"

Violet didn't hesitate. "Utterly loyal, to the very core. To those lucky enough to be among the few he cared about, there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect them. And to those who tried to hurt those he cared about, he was ruthless, stopping at nothing to pursue justice as he saw it, though it was, very occasionally, slightly skewed. But then, most people's view of justice is slanted, based on their beliefs and experiences."

"We do not need a lecture on justice, Miss Evans," an elderly witch snapped. "Least of all from you."

"I was merely fulfilling my oath, Madame Blishwick," Violet replied innocently. She inwardly triumphed at the slightly dismayed look on the old woman's face.

There was a definite twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he continued. "In your opinion, could the accused have betrayed the Potters to Lord Voldemort?"

She ignored the shudders that ripped through the audience at the name. "Absolutely not. Sirius would rather have been tortured and killed than to allow any harm to come to them. He regarded James and Lily as his siblings, and he utterly adored Harry. In fact, James used to tease him that he would really only visit to see the baby and not the adults in the family."

Violet could feel the softening of the audience, evidenced by the few audible "aw"s. She rejoiced inwardly, but knew that there was far more work needed to be done.

"Would you tell the court how you came to find out about the accused's current… situation?" Dumbledore's hesitation only served to highlight the injustice of Sirius's imprisonment.

"Of course, Sir. Remus Lupin came to my flat to share pictures of James and Lily with Harry, to show him more of the parents he will unfortunately never know. In one of these photographs, I recognized a man as a Death Eater."

"And who was this man?" Amelia queried.

"Peter Pettigrew."

The gasps that followed were the most dramatic yet. But it was to be expected, for how in Merlin's name could the tragic war hero be a Death Eater?

"I'm sorry," came the silky voice of Sapphira Pyrites. "But you couldn't possibly be saying what I think you were. I'm sure you're just confused. Pettigrew was recognized by this body as a hero of the war and awarded an Order of Merlin for his bravery."

"I wouldn't be standing here alive if I thought otherwise, not with the oath I swore," Violet shot back at her old school nemesis. "I saw Pettigrew receive his Dark Mark, after killing two people, Dorcas Meadowes and David Thomas. It took place in my house, and I had to serve him dinner with a smile on my face afterwards. It's not really something I could confuse."

Dumbledore quickly continued before Pyrites could retort. "Please, Miss Evans, continue with your narrative."

Violet nodded once. "I asked Remus who the man in the photograph was, and he told me that it was one of his old school friends, the fourth in their little band that I'd never met. I then told him that the man was a Death Eater, which he, quite understandably, denied. We wondered aloud if he could have been a spy for you, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, forced to do horrible acts to prevent worse ones in the future, so we immediately Floo called to confirm it. You told us that no, Pettigrew had never been a spy for you and that Black had been the spy, for the other side. I asked which Black, to which you answered Sirius. That surprised me, knowing him as I had and the hatred he had for anything even bordering Dark magic. And as I had lived with one or another of his cousins for around twenty years, everything I'd heard from them about Sirius after the first few years had been all about the shame he was bringing the Black name for being a blood traitor. It was then that Remus informed us about all that had happened after Voldemort's… attack on the Potters'... that Halloween."

She hadn't meant to, but talking about her baby sister's murder in front of so many people was rather hard, and Violet felt herself choke up. But Sapphira Pyrites was her unwitting savior. "You didn't know the circumstances surrounding your own sister's murder?" she scoffed.

Violet felt the steel straighten her back once more, eyes hardening to chips of cold, hard emeralds. "I lived in a house filled with some of Voldemort's most dedicated followers," she spat. "In order to bring them to justice, I had to act as they did, as if my sorrow and heartbreak was for his loss, and not for my sister, who he had murdered. So, no, I was a bit unaware of Sirius's arrest and following illegal incarceration."

"Miss Evans," Dumbledore continued, interrupting the icy glare between the old rivals. "In your opinion, could Sirius Black have ever betrayed the Potters to Lord Voldemort?"

"No, absolutely not," came her immediate response. "He never would have hurt any member of the Potter family, in any way."

"Thank you," he said, then turned to his fellows in the Wizengamot. "Are there any other questions for Miss Evans?" No one spoke up, so he turned back to Violet. "We thank you for your testimony and ask that you return to your seat. If we have any further questions, you do remain under oath."

Violet stepped down and headed back to her seat, smiling in response to Remus's encouraging grin. "You were brilliant, my love," Sherlock whispered to her, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. Her smile grew, but he was the only one who would have been able to see the smirk behind it.

"Remus John Lupin, we call upon you to take the stand," Dumbledore announced. Once on the stand, he asked the same oath of Remus, who gave it gladly. But before Dumbledore could ask anything of him, Sapphira Pyrites immediately started interrogating him. "Can you corroborate Miss Evans's story, Mr. Lupin?"

"Well, I think the fact that she's still alive sort of corroborates it," he said plainly. "But yes, everything that Violet said earlier is true. We discovered Pettigrew's treachery as we were looking through old photographs, talked with Dumbledore, realized that Sirius is innocent. What more do you want to know?"

"I knew there was a reason I liked him," Violet whispered to Sherlock, who grinned wolfishly in response.

Remus was questioned about Sirius's character, as well, and about their days at Hogwarts together. He recounted what he knew about the circumstances surrounding the Potters' deaths and Sirius's arrest. "And then he wasn't even given a trial," he said passionately. "He was merely thrown into Azkaban to rot."

After Remus, came Alastor Moody, who testified of the Death Eaters Sirius had brought in during his days as an Auror, and of his hatred of the Dark Arts. "If I hadn't've been told to arrest him, he would've been the last person I would have ever suspected. He hated the Dark Arts, and the whole blood purity nonsense."

"When you did arrest him," Mycroft began, "what was his reaction? How did he behave?"

"Like a madman," was Moody's prompt response. "He was howling with laughter, like he'd just heard the most clever joke in all existence. Until he stopped, without any warning, and kept saying over and over that it was his fault. I thought the stress of being a double agent had finally cracked him, that or the guilt of betraying his best mate."

Amelia asked the next question. "And what happened to Mr. Black once you arrested him?"

Moody scowled, which had a rather terrifying effect, given that half his face was missing. "I brought him back here to the Ministry, but then was called out to the Malfoy place just as soon as I stepped foot here. I transferred custody to Danvers and headed out. I didn't see him again until I escorted you to meet with him in Azkaban near to a month ago. It was madness back then, so I sort of put it out of my mind. I only found out that he never got a trial when you told me, Madame Bones, though it doesn't excuse it. I'm sorry, lad. I should have done more. I should have known better."

The last was said to Sirius, who nodded in acknowledgement after a long, tense moment. No one seemed to want to ask any more questions, so Moody was released, only to be replaced by Alice Longbottom. She then testified of Sirius's character while she had known him, adding yet another witness of his hatred against the Dark Arts. Markwell, the warden, testified of Sirius's behavior while in Azkaban, promoting him as a model inmate, never causing trouble, even when others may have tried to start it.

Then it was Sherlock's turn. "Don't antagonize them too much, darling," Violet murmured, though grinning.

"Never," he assured, grinning back at her.

After his oath, Dumbledore said, "Mr. Holmes, you've been called as an expert in the field of forensics. What can you tell us about the crime scene where Sirius Black was arrested?"

"It's obvious that he didn't cast the bombardment charm," Sherlock stated arrogantly. "At least to anyone who's even remotely studied in geometry. Oh wait, you don't teach geometry at Hogwarts, do you?"

Violet suppressed a grin as Mycroft briefly covered his eyes with his hand. This was bound to be entertaining.

"Could you explain to us, please, Mr. Holmes? And do please refrain from further slander," Madame Blishwick commanded.

Violet saw him smirk and knew he was about to explain just how his statement hadn't been slander and what the definition actually was. Fortunately, Dumbledore interfered with his plans. "Please show us what you mean, Mr. Holmes," he said, then waved his wand to magically project the photographs of the crime scene on the wall.

Sherlock then proceeded to show that, based on the angle of the spellwork, the person casting said spell would have had to cast it at a nearly vertical angle. As such, there was no way Sirius could have cast it. "Clearly, it was Pettigrew, holding his wand behind his back as he baited Black. That is the only physically possible way it could have happened."

"Then what happened to Pettigrew?" Pyrites questioned, simpering. Violet noticed that she was leaning forward quite a bit over the bannister in front of her, shoving her rather large breasts out for better viewing.

"If she's not careful, she's going to fall over that banister," Remus muttered.

"Or she'll fall out of her robes," Violet ridiculed.

Sherlock stared at Pyrites for a long moment, while she foolishly fluttered in response. "I suggest, Madame, that you ask the only person in this room who was actually there. If you want to know what happened to Pettigrew, ask Black."

She colored, leaning back into her seat as if she had been slapped. But Dumbledore simply continued. "What an excellent suggestion, Mr. Holmes. Does anyone have a further question for him before we move onto Mr. Black?"

No one said a word, possibly fearing Sherlock's biting retort for whatever they might say, so Dumbledore excused him, then called Sirius to the stand. "You were brilliant," Violet said, echoing his early words to him as Sherlock took his seat next to her.

"Of course I was. They're all simpletons."


	18. Chapter 18

"Sirius Orion Black, do you swear to tell nothing but the truth as you know it?" Dumbledore asked in his commanding voice.

"Of course I do," Sirius replied, sounding a bit flippant, but Violet, and the men with her, could see the steely resolve mingled with annoyance buried beneath it. "After all, it's only my life at stake here. Or rather, my sanity, since the dementors would surely rob me of it were I to be sent back to Azkaban."

Dumbledore looked at him with sadness dimming the usual twinkle in his eye. Thankfully, Mycroft was unaffected by sentiment. "We still need the oath, Mr. Black, for legal reasons."

"Of course. We wouldn't want anything to be less than perfectly legal, now would we?" Sirius snarked back. Remus sighed and let his face fall into his hands. But before anyone could further reprimand him, Sirius continued. "I, Sirius Orion Black, do solemnly swear to tell the truth as I know it."

Remus's head shot up at those words, and Violet was terribly confused as to why he was suddenly grinning. But she put it out of her mind when Dumbledore began his questioning. "Mr. Black, were you a spy for Lord Voldemort during the war?"

"No, I was not."

"Were you a member of the terrorist organization known as the Death Eaters?" Dumbledore continued.

"Absolutely not."

"Even though your family, including your younger brother, your only sibling, were active, vocal supporters of You-Know-Who, and have since been found to be members of said terrorist organization?" Mycroft pushed.

Sherlock tensed, seemingly ready to shoot a hex at his brother, at the very least, but Violet stopped him. "He knows what he's doing," she whispered, a gently restraining hand on Sherlock's wrist. He relaxed, nodded, but she noticed he still sent a glare at his brother.

"By the time I was sixteen, I had run away from home," Sirius began slowly. The way he clutched at the arms of his imprisoning chair made clear to everyone in the room that it was a difficult subject for him. "My birth parents tried to force me to offer myself to Lord Voldemort, rather like a slave. I refused, and subsequently, my mother cursed me to within an inch of my life. With the help of the only sympathetic soul in the household, my house elf, Minka, I managed to get away, get to the Potters', where they greeted me with open arms, always had. Fleamont and Euphemia became my parents, and James- Well, James had been my brother since First Year, along with Remus Lupin and P-Peter Pettigrew. So, no, Mr. Holmes, my birth family's involvement with Voldemort did not sway me to his side. If anything, it pushed me further from him, seeing as I wanted to do anything I could to piss them off."

A quick chuckle passed through the room, lightening the tension his story had brought. But Remus was still clutching the arms of his seat, mirroring his best friend down on the stand.

"So there is nothing that could have swayed you to his side?" Pyrites asked coyly.

"Short of my mother's head on a plate and an end to the war, no," Sirius shot back. "I hate everything he stood for. All this Pureblood inanity is rubbish. Being born to a magical family doesn't make one automatically better at magic. Though it does tend toward insanity caused by inbreeding."

"You and he are never allowed to be left alone with Harry," Violet murmured to Sherlock. Who simply grinned devilishly in response.

"So you never worked with You-Know-Who?" a tiny wizard, unfamiliar to Violet, asked.

"Merciful Merlin, I think we've established that quite enough," Amelia snapped, turning to scowl at the offending wizard. He shrank back from her monocled glare.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore began again. "Did you ever betray James, Lily, or Harry Potter to Lord Voldemort or any of his followers?"

"No," Sirius spat. "I already said that James was a brother to me, and Lily became the sister I never had. Harry is my godson, for Godric's sake, so why on earth would I ever betray them? I would have rather died myself than give them over to Voldemort!"

He was then asked to recount the events leading up to his arrest, which he did after a few long, calming breaths. The room was silent except for his voice, everyone hanging on each word that fell from his lips. "And then the dirty rat accused me of betraying my family and blew up the street, cut off his own finger before transforming and escaping into the sewer."

"And just exactly how did he transform, Mr. Black?" Mycroft asked.

"He's an Animagus," Sirius explained. "He can change into a rat at will. Rather fitting, if you ask me."

"An Animagus? That's terribly complex magic, and Pettigrew, by all reports, including my own, was barely average in his skills," Madame Marchbanks commented.

"And yet you lot gave him an Order of Merlin," Sherlock muttered.

Sirius smirked. "James and I were both rather good at Transfiguration, so we helped him. The three of us did it together, finally managing to do it in our Fifth Year at Hogwarts."

Fudge gestured at the scribe, Truman, who then scrabbled at the parchment littering his desk. After a long moment, he shook his head at the Minister. "We have no record of you or your friends being Animagi."

"So fine me," Sirius quipped, smirking daringly at the man.

Mycroft spoke before the reddening Minister could. "Will you demonstrate this for us? As a testiment to your claims."

"Release me from this blasted chair and I'd be glad to do so."

Mycroft nodded at the Auror guarding Sirius. But before the man could release the chains, a cry sounded out. "You can't do that!" Pyrites exclaimed. "You can't release a convicted murderer in here!"

"Really, Pyrites, what do you think the man could do without a wand against this entire room full of people with theirs?" Amelia asked incredulously. "If he tried to change while being chained, it would break several bones, and that is not something we could legally or morally endorse."

"And by the way, I've never been convicted. That's what we're here for," Sirius reminded none too subtly.

"Gregson, release him so he can prove what he's talking about," Mycroft ordered longsufferingly.

The Auror did as he was told, and Sirius surged from the chair, massaging his wrists while glaring at the chains that had held him captive. He stretched for a moment, then suddenly, a giant, bear like dog was standing in his place.

"He's a Grim!" came the terrified cry from more than one person.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't piss him off," Amelia snapped. "Thank you, Mr. Black. You can turn back to your human self, now."

Sirius did so, then allowed himself to be escorted back to the dreaded chair. To everyone's surprise, the chains did not wrap themselves around him again, even with the Auror rapping his wand several times upon them.

"Gregson, what is happening?" Fudge demanded hysterically, looking rather like he might try to climb up his chair to get away from Sirius at any moment.

"I don't know, sir. It simply won't do it," the frustrated Gregson replied.

Dumbledore spoke serenely, "It would appear that the chair has determined Mr. Black's innocence. I suggest we as the Wizengamot vote upon it. All those in favor of finding Sirius Orion Black innocent, please raise your wands."

Nearly the entire Wizengamot raised their wands. "And those in favor of finding him guilty," Dumbledore continued. Seven people raised their wands this time, including Sapphira Pyrites, who glared at Violet as she did so. "The Wizengamot has spoken. You are free to go, Sirius."

Remus was up and running to his friend before the Chief Warlock had even finished speaking. Violet and Sherlock followed at a much more sedate pace, letting the two of them embrace joyfully, tears streaming down both faces. "Congratulations, Sirius," she said upon reaching them.

"Thank you, Vi. Thank you so much," he said, sincerity ringing through every syllable. "Could I- Could I hug you this once?"

Laughing, she threw her arms around the man, squeezing tightly. "But just this once, mind you," she teased.

"Why don't we take this reunion next door." Mycroft was suddenly standing next to the little group, ushering them to the door. As they exited, photographers, both professional and ameteur, shoved cameras in their faces, the flashes nearly blinding them all.

"How does it feel to be free, Mr. Black?"

"How much did you pay them?"

"Filthy blood traitor!"

"Death Eater scum!"

"They seem a bit conflicted," Sherlock muttered dryly, all the while keeping an arm securely wrapped around Violet.

"You never could do things by halves, could you, Padfoot?" Remus laughed, once they were all safely inside the little room, one of many for the members of the Wizengamot in between trials and sessions.

Sirius grinned, but didn't answer his friend. Instead, he turned to Violet. "Take me to see Harry, Vi. I have to see him."

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond to him. He saw the delay and scowled fiercely. "He's my godson, too. You have no right to keep him from me!" he growled.

"Sirius, I don't want to keep him from you," Violet replied, though a tiny part of her disagreed vehemently. "I know you love him, and you've missed him. Believe me, I know. But take a moment and think. If he saw you right now, he'd be terrified."

"You look like a walking corpse," Sherlock added. His arm curled around Violet again.

Sirius looked furious, ready to argue. But Remus's words stopped him. "They're not being cruel, mate. You need to take care of yourself before you can see him. You don't want Harry to be afraid of you, do you?"

At those softly spoken words, Sirius deflated. "I just want to see him. He's the only thing that kept me sane."

Violet felt tears pricking her eyes. "I know. And you'll see him soon. But first, you've got to check into St. Mungo's and take care of yourself."

"Years of exposure to dementors are rather damaging to one's psyche," Mycroft said, sounding rather like he was discussing nothing more important than the weather. "I happen to know of a mind healer who would be willing to work with you."

Sirius nodded once. "Alright." It sounded more dejected than any one word had a right to be.

"See, Pads? It'll be good. You'll get yourself taken care of, and then you can see our little Prongslet," Remus assured.

"In fact, you both could join us for Christmas," Sherlock said, surprising everyone in the room. Including himself.

"That's a wonderful idea!" Violet gushed, before he had the chance to change his mind. "We'll be at the Holmes's, and I know for a fact that Cecilia would be delighted to have you join us. And Harry, too."

Sirius lit up at that. "That… that would be nice, thank you."

Plans were arranged, then Remus escorted Sirius to St. Mungo's via a Portkey Mycroft created for them. "Thank you, Mycroft," Violet said quietly once the blue glow died down.

"You're welcome," he replied, his usual sarcasm missing for once. "But are you really ready to share Harry with someone else?"

"Of course not, Mycroft. Don't be daft," Sherlock snapped. "But it's what's best for him."

"And we would do anything for him," Violet added.

"Well, this will be interesting," Mycroft commented, before heading to the door. "I suppose someone will have to arrange for Black to get his wand back, and an arrangement made for the illegal Animagus bit, as well as compensation for his wrongful incarceration. As the rest of them are all idiots, I suppose that someone will have to be me."

Once the door closed behind him, Violet turned to her best friend. "Thank you, Sherlock. I know this wasn't easy, given the end result."

"We will do anything for Harry," he said easily.

"Anything for our boy," she smiled, wrapping her arm around his. "And speaking of our boy, what do you say we go get him?"

The pair Apparated into the Watsons' flat, bringing a surprised smile to Mary's face. "You're back sooner than I expected."

"Thankfully, the idiots in the Wizengamot were less idiotic today than usual," Sherlock sniffed, rather pompously.

Mary and Violet exchanged amused grins. "Yes, for the most part," Violet agreed, thinking of Sapphira Pyrites. "And thankfully, Sherlock held his tongue and didn't antagonize anyone," she added with a grin.

"That should count as a miracle," Mary teased.

Sherlock pouted and turned to the children. "Harry, it's time to go home now. Let's clean up the toys since you helped make the mess."

"Okay, Lock," the little boy said sadly, before yelping suddenly. His feet flew out from under him, and he flew across the room, stopping neatly right next to Rosie.

"What the bloody hell was that?" John asked from his place at the door.

"I didn' mean to!" Harry wailed, instantly in tears. "I didn' mean to, Auntie Vi! I'm sorry! Don' send me away!"

"Oh, my darling boy, it's alright. I'm never sending you away," she cooed, at his side in an instant, with Sherlock on her heels. They both wrapped the sobbing boy in their arms, repeating soothing, nonsensical things over and over.

Rosie, at seeing her favorite person so upset, also burst into tears, to which John and Mary responded just as quickly. It took rather a long while to calm both children down. In the end, both simply cried themselves to sleep.

"I'm sorry I scared him like that," John said quietly, rocking his daughter in his arms.

"It's alright," Sherlock assured, doing the same with Harry. "He simply has some mental scars from his earlier upbringing."

"And it makes me want to punch my sister in the face every time it crops up again," Violet muttered angrily.

"It is very sad," Mary said, "but did any of you notice?" At three nearly identical blank looks of confusion, she grinned and continued. "Harry moved toward Rosie. If he were the one doing it, don't you think he would have moved her to him?"

Understanding dawned slowly on the other three adults. After a long moment of comprehension, John sighed. "And Rosie was supposed to be the normal one in the family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Sirius is free! This may be the last time I update for a while, because I'll be at Disneyland next weekend, and then it's NaNo, so I might not update again before December. But I might, if I can't revive my muse to get her working for NaNo. We'll see! But thanks for reading, and especially for the reviews. They make my day!


	19. Chapter 19

"Really, John, Floo doesn't sound that bad," was heard as the Baker Street trio arrived with a pop into Marylebone Road, number thirteen B.

"People aren't meant to step into fireplaces, Mary. It sounds like something a teenager would do, resulting in a visit to our clinic," the poor man said, then grimaced as he noticed the three new people in his flat. "I'm sorry, but it really does," he added, adjusting his holiday jumper a bit defiantly.

"Is okay, Uncle John," Harry said, terribly concerned. "I's scared, too. When Auntie Vi told me th' firs' time, I thought I was gonna burned up. But I didn', an' you won', neither!" And then, he left the room, presumably to find Rosie.

Sherlock looked far too amused at his friend's expense. "Yes, John, if Harry can do it, I would think that a man like yourself could do it without any problems."

John looked to make sure Harry was out of earshot before speaking. "Just remember, Sherlock, I can break every bone in your body whilst naming it. And then Violet could heal them so I can do it all over again."

"Violet wants no part of your ridiculousness," the lady in question laughed. "I'll help Mary finish packing."

Soon enough, all the bags and presents were packed, shrunk, and placed in pockets. "Now, all you have to do is throw a pinch of the powder in the fire and very clearly state the address of your destination," Violet patiently explained.

"And make sure you don't get out too soon," Sherlock added mischievously.

"Really not helping," Violet sighed. "Anyway, the Holmes's house is the only one around, so getting out too early isn't really a concern. I'll go first with Rosie, then you lot can follow, yes?"

"Yes," Mary replied with a grin, handing over her daughter. "Be good for Auntie Vi, Rosie. See you in a few!" To which Rosie adorably waved, before sticking her fingers back in her mouth.

"Hold tight, Rosie dear," Violet said, before throwing a handful of the green powder into the fire. "Holmes Estate," she added, stepping into the emerald flames. Clinging to the child in her arms, she closed her eyes to the spinning fireplaces around her. As they slowed down, she stepped out, opening her eyes to see the gently smiling faces of the elder Holmeses.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" Cecilia cooed, taking Rosie from Violet.

Violet whisked away the soot left from her trip just in time for Mary to come through, the fireplace chiming gently. Mary fared surprisingly well, only stumbling a bit as she landed. "Let me get you cleaned up," Violet told her friend.

"Let's see how long it takes John to come over," Mary laughed. "He's most definitely not excited about this new way to travel."

"He should be glad we're not making him come by Apparition," Violet joked. "That's even worse until you're used to it."

"Sherlock was terribly ill the first several times we Side-Alonged with him," William added. "It's rather uncomfortable for a while."

Just then, a chime from the fireplace heralded something tumbling out in a cloud of ash, soot, and green flames. Once it stopped moving, it was revealed to be John. "Why couldn't we have just taken the car?" he moaned from his place on the floor.

"Up you get," Mary urged, "unless you want to be ploughed over by Sherlock and Harry."

He did manage to roll out of the way, but only just. "Leave me here a while, will you?" he asked those surrounding him. "I think I may have left my stomach in London."

"You can' do that w'th Floo, Uncle John! Tha's only w'th 'Rition, so ya got to hold real still," Harry informed him.

John looked suitably horrified. "You could leave part of yourself behind with Apparition?!"

"Not if you're experienced, John, don't be ridiculous," Sherlock scolded, cleaning his friend up with a sweep of his hand. "Now, Harry, why don't you show Rosie where the toys are? She's never been here before, at least not outside of the womb."

Harry cocked his head at the funny word, but decided that showing his friend all the wonder that was the playroom was more important than learning its definition. That left the adults time to place the presents surreptitiously under the tree before taking their luggage to the rooms prepared for them upstairs.

Once back downstairs, they found Mycroft speaking with his parents in the kitchen, a lovely young woman standing off to the side on her mobile. "You brought your assistant to family Christmas, Mycroft?" Sherlock scoffed.

"No, he brought his girlfriend," Violet countered. Her grin faded when she noticed the shocked looks on three of the faces in the room. "You didn't know?"

"My brother is quite good at not noticing things directly under his nose, Violet," Mycroft declared.

"How long has this… been this?" Sherlock demanded indignantly.

"Mycroft and Anthea have been together for years. They've been engaged since before you came back from bringing down Moriarty's ring," Cecilia told him quietly. "Now, before you get all riled up, we're here to have a nice family get together. That means no arguing."

"Yes, you both know how much that upsets your mother," William reminded, one eyebrow raised in stern admonition.

"Of course, Mother, Father," Mycroft replied pompously.

Sherlock was most definitely not one to be outdone. "I won't, Mother, unless Mycroft starts it."

Mycroft bristled, but the rest of the room ignored the both of them. "It's nice to meet you, Anthea," Violet said, holding out a hand to the other woman.

"Yes, it's nice to meet the other Holmes fiancee," she replied with a quick grin.

Poor John was still stuck on the fact that Mycroft and Anthea were a couple. "So that's why you never responded to my…" he let himself trail off when his wife gave him a raised eyebrow of her own.

Anthea, on the other hand, laughed. "Yes, sorry. It's not that you're not a lovely person, but you're not really my type."

Another chime came from the lounge. "That must be Sirius and Remus," Cecilia said, bustling to the other room. The rest of them followed.

Greetings and introductions were made throughout the room, though Violet could see both of the newcomers fidgeting a bit. "Harry's just in the playroom. Let's go see him." Relief and happiness flooded both of their faces.

Once again, the adults trooped as one into another room. Violet stopped at the door. "Let me just explain who you are," she told Sirius, who agreed impatiently.

She entered the playroom, and both children looked to her. "Harry, do you remember when we visited your mummy and daddy, there in the graveyard?" she asked, and was rewarded by an instant nod from him. "Well, do you remember when your daddy said that we needed to help Padfoot?" Another nod, this time a bit more serious. "Well, Lock and I, with Remus, too, found Padfoot and helped save him. His name is Sirius, and he would like to see you. Would you like to meet him?" One more nod, with a bit of wonder thrown in. "Alright, Sirius, come in now," she called out.

Sirius was through the door before the words were finished, though he stopped almost immediately upon entering. He stood, staring at Harry, for a long time. "Hello, little man," he finally said, though it was so soft, it was nearly inaudible.

Harry studied the newcomer intently, until, surprising everyone, he suddenly threw his arms around the man. "Pa-foot!" he cried. "You're real!"

Tears were in most of the adults' eyes as Sirius fell to his knees to embrace the little boy better. "Of course I'm real, little man. You remember me?"

Harry nodded vigorously, with his face still buried in Sirius's chest. "I dreamed you, bu' I though' I maded you up. We flewed on a motorbike, an' you turned to a dog, an' you made me laugh!"

Sirius smiled, far more brightly than Violet had ever seen. "I think those were probably memories. I did have a motorbike that flew, and I used to take you on it, but only when your mummy wasn't around. She didn't like it very much."

"You even had your own little helmet," Remus added happily. "Sirius and James, your dad, loved to take you for rides whenever your mum didn't know about it. You would fly with your dad on his broom, and with Sirius on his motorbike."

"And you turn to a dog?" Harry asked excitedly.

Sirius answered by doing just that. Harry laughed, and Rosie clapped her little hands in excitement. "And I think you just became their favorite person," John told the dog. "Outside of each other, of course."

Sirius and Remus were left to get to know Harry better, and Rosie, as well, since she wasn't about to let her Ree out of her sight. So the rest of the adults moved to the kitchen, where Cecilia put them all to work on dinner preparations. It was a simple meal, since Christmas dinner would be a feast, but with so many mouths to feed, even that required rather a lot of work.

After they all ate, Sirius and Remus begged to be allowed to watch the children until bedtime, so they took them back to the playroom. The others retired to the lounge, where Mycroft and Anthea both pulled out their mobiles and tablets. "After all, Mother, the British government never takes a break, not even for Christmas," Mycroft said callously.

The rest talked about the children, Harry's magical prowess and Rosie's recent display being the biggest topics. After a while, they moved onto other things, like some of the cases that Sherlock and John had solved together. "Do you remember, Sherlock? Our very first case?" John laughed shortly. "We got back from chasing that taxi, the one the killer was actually driving, though we didn't know it at the time, and there's Lestrade with his whole squad, ripping our flat apart on a drugs bust."

Sherlock glared at his friend, though John didn't seem to notice. He was a bit distracted by Violet's violent gasp. "A drugs bust?" she exclaimed. "Why in in Salazar's name would they be looking for drugs in your flat?"

"Because my dear baby brother has had a certain… past with using various substances to ease his boredom." Mycroft's disinterested voice drawled across the room, without him even looking up from his tablet.

"You used drugs?" Violet asked, terribly cold and deathly quiet. "Why? How could you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock stared at her for a brief moment, before turning on his heel and storming through the door to the veranda. The others were left in a tense, uncomfortable silence, looking anywhere but each other. Mycroft was the one who finally broke it. "Why don't you go after him this time, Violet? It's about time that you started cleaning up some of the messes you've caused."

Violet stared hard at him for a moment, trying to understand what he meant. In the end, she simply sighed and headed outside.

Sherlock was standing with his back to the house, right at the edge of the weather charm that kept the veranda snow free. Violet stood behind him for a long time, simply watching him, trying to figure him out. "Why, Sherlock?" she whispered at last. "Why would you do that?"

"I was bored," came the instant reply. He never turned around.

"You were bored?" Violet screeched. "You could have died because you were bored?"

Sherlock never answered her, simply continued to stare off into space.

Violet stared at him, too upset with him to understand what was going on. "Why would you ever risk that beautiful mind of yours, Sherlock? Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"Perhaps I was," he said lowly, keeping his back to her.

His words froze Violet, all the way to her heart, frightening her more than she had been in a very long time. "You never asked me why I started," he continued, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Or when." Violet strained to hear him. "The first time I ever shot up was when I was sixteen. The ninth of April in nineteen ninety-eight. The day after you left me for LeStrange."

An icy dagger seemed to pierce Violet's heart, but there was no way she could move. "I didn't necessarily want to die, but I don't think I would have minded if I had," Sherlock resumed his story. "It was a delicious sensation, one where the whole world seemed to simply slip away. Time had no meaning, and I had no heart to break."

"I'm the reason you turned to drugs?" Violet gasped out. "Because of me, you could have killed yourself?"

"If that happened, I wouldn't have been opposed to it," he said. "You were my one true friend, the only one who ever understood me. I knew I would never be able to find someone else who would accept me like you did. And I didn't want to be in a world where you were with LeStrange. I couldn't see you with him, couldn't see you marry him. Not when I'd always thought I would be the one you married."


	20. Chapter 20

"Sherlock, what are you saying?" Violet asked quietly. Her heart was in her throat, and she couldn't remember a time that she'd felt more anxious.

"Really, Vi, what do you think I'm saying?" Sherlock finally turned to face her, a hint of his usual snark creeping back into his words.

"Don't you play with me!" she cried, fists clenching at her side, frustration now warring with anxiety. "Sherlock Holmes, you tell me now."

The man sighed, visibly drooping. "I'm in love with you, Vi, have been my entire life. You're my definition of love. And it nearly killed me to know you were marrying a man who couldn't possibly love you, didn't understand you, and most definitely didn't deserve you."

Tears spilled, but Violet brushed them aside. "We're such idiots," she said with a soft laugh. "I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Why do you think I asked you to marry me when we were children?"

Sherlock's gaze flew over her face, trying to find some hint of a lie. Violet, knowing exactly what he was doing, stood still, letting him see the truth of it on her face. "Do you mean it?" he finally asked in wonderment.

"I've never lied to you, Sherlock," she said quietly, "and I don't intend to start now."

As soon as the words left her lips, Sherlock crossed the short distance between them. He carefully took her hands in one of his. His other hand fluttered around her face, as if he were uncertain what to do with it. "I know you hate touching, and I'm certain that every kiss you've ever had was never actually for you, but do you think you could possibly let me kiss you? I want to help you remember that not every touch is meant to hurt you."

Violet took a sharp breath in, paralyzed momentarily as previous kisses flashed through her memory. But Sherlock is not Rabastan, she forcefully reminded herself. "I will try," she said at last. "But I make no promises."

Sherlock smiled, that true, beatific smile that was seen so rarely. His hand finally came to rest on her cheek, cradling her face with infinite care. "I love you, Violet," he whispered, before slowly closing the gap between them.

Sherlock's kiss was soft, tentative. In fact, he barely kissed Violet, very nearly just a peck, before he pulled back just the slightest, enough to allow her to pull away, if she so chose. But when she didn't, he kissed her again, softly lingering against her lips before kissing her a third time, just a little longer as Violet tentatively kissed him back. He pulled back to look her in the eye. "That wasn't so terrible, was it?"

It was meant as a joke, but Violet could hear the underlying insecurity. "It was perfect," she whispered, and he smiled in response.

"I want to make you happy, Violet. That's all I've ever wanted."

"And you make me so very happy," she assured, slipping her arms around him to hug him tightly. A sudden thought had her pulling back just as he started to return the embrace. "But if you ever do anything as idiotic as using drugs again, I will take Harry and you will never see either of us ever again."

Sherlock shook his head solemnly. "I haven't touched anything stronger than nicotine in almost a year now, and I swear to you, I will never do it again."

This time, it was Violet who searched his face for sincerity, and upon finding it, she snuggled back into his arms. "Good, just so we understand one another."

…

Harry had been given strict instructions that he was to wake Violet and Sherlock, and then the rest of the house, as soon as he woke Christmas morning, provided that it was after five o'clock. Accordingly, he was waking his aunt at precisely three minutes past the hour. "Auntie Vi, you said to wake you," he whispered, though a four-year-old can only whisper so quietly.

"That I did, my darling," she rather mumbled, pushing sleep from her eyes. "Come give us a snuggle first. It'll help me wake up."

Harry obliged, wiggling his way over Violet to settle between her and Sherlock. "G'morning, Lock," he said sweetly, grinning up at the man he was convinced hung the sun, moon, and stars.

Sherlock gave him a hair ruffle. "Should we go wake everyone else?" he asked after a moment. "Let your Auntie wake up a little more?" Harry nodded enthusiastically, so Sherlock scooped him up and rolled out of the bed. "You remember what we practiced?" Harry nodded again, with even more enthusiasm. "Alright, here we go!"

Violet watched with amusement as the two loves of her life tore out of the bedroom, screaming, "Wake up! It's Christmas!" She was sure that Mycroft, from his bedroom next door, would be particularly appreciative of their wakeup call.

It took a while, but everyone gathered in the lounge by half past. "I love magic," Mary muttered, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug of tea Cecelia had handed her.

"Especially when it gets us tea this quickly," John added, saluting with his own cup.

The adults settled in, sleepily enjoying watching the children open their presents. Though Harry was very careful in seeing that everyone else got to open a present, every now and then. But, as he and Rosie had the vast majority of presents under the tree, it was easy to forget about the others.

It wasn't until much later, after breakfast and while Sirius and Remus supervised the children on the toy brooms they'd gotten for them, that Sherlock brought a last gift out. It had been tucked away in the tree, somewhat hidden, exactly as he'd wanted. It was smallish, about the size of his hand, and tied with a blue ribbon. Violet was rather confused as he presented it to her. "What's this?"

"Just open it," he demanded, taking a seat next to her.

She did as ordered, untying it a bit slowly. But when she opened the box, the gift inside took her breath away. Looking to Sherlock, she noticed that he was incredibly anxious. "I didn't do it right the first time," he said quickly. "You deserve better than what I did, so I need to do it better." He slid to one knee and took her left hand in his. "Violet Isabelle Evans, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Though there were several gasps from the other ladies in the room, Violet didn't hear any of it. She merely saw the man in front of her and the ring he was giving her, now freed from its box and held before her eyes. "Of course, I will, Sherlock. Nothing would make me happier."

He smiled that little half smile of his and slipped the ring on her finger. She could feel the ring fitting itself perfectly to her finger, though that was only a dim awareness as she threw her arms around her fiancé's neck. "I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," she whispered into his ear.

"And I, you," he whispered back.

They were joined by Harry throwing his little arms around both of them, as far as he could go. "She said yes, Lock!" he cried. "Tha' means you can be my new daddy!"

That took everyone by surprise. "Uh, we'll talk about that later," Violet said, noting the somewhat unhappy looks Sirius and Remus were sporting.

"Let's see the ring," Mary chirped, grabbing Violet's hand. "Oh, it's beautiful, Sherlock! How did you find such a gorgeous thing?"

"I made it," was his astonishing reply.

John shook his head. "Magic had better've been involved, otherwise I don't think I could handle learning you've got some secret jewelry smithing skills I don't know about."

Sherlock laughed. "No, John, I most definitely used magic. I used a real daisy, wrapped the stem around to make a ring, then transfigured it. I did add the sapphire in the center. It's part of the Holmes' family jewels."

"It's your something blue," Cecelia added, smiling angelically. "For your wedding."

"It's incredible, Sherlock," Violet admired. "Rather better than the one I tried to give you when we were children," she added impishly.

"And that's exactly where I got the idea," he replied, hugging her tightly to him once more. She simply leaned against him, happy to accept the gesture, while the others each congratulated them.

…

Violet found Sirius outside that night, staring up the stars. "Do you think James and Lily are watching us, wherever they are?" he asked quietly.

"Undoubtedly," she answered immediately. "I didn't tell you what happened when Sherlock and I took Harry to the graveyard, did I?"

At his hesitant shake of the head, she proceeded to tell him just what had happened on Halloween. "There's no way he could have known what he said otherwise. And it's a nice thought, anyway."

Sirius smiled softly, but there was still pain lingering in his face. Violet decided then and there that she would chose her lot with Rabastan all over again than take Sirius's time in Azkaban. "You know neither Sherlock nor I want to replace Lily or James, right? And we want you to be a part of Harry's life?"

"I do," he replied quickly, then frowned. "Or at least I'm trying to. It's so hard when I haven't seen him for three years. He's changed so much, and I missed all that. And I wasn't there to protect him, keep him from Petunia and her monster of a husband. I failed him, Vi. We both did."

Tears threatened, but Violet ignored them. "I know. I trusted my sister, thinking that she would never allow an innocent child to be harmed. Had I known, I would have done anything to get him. I would have even let Rabastan go free to get Harry. But I didn't know, and you couldn't have known. We have to let it go, forgive ourselves, for Harry's sake if nothing else."

Sirius nodded slowly. "I know. And he's the most important thing in my life. I want to do right by him, prove to James that he was right to trust me with his son."

"That's all I want, as well," Violet smiled softly.

"But I can't take him, even though everything in me is screaming for me to take him and keep him with me for the rest of my life," he continued, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he were choosing each word with precision. "Azkaban broke something in me, Vi, something deep inside me. I can't have Harry depending on me, not when I'm like this. And he's so happy with you and Sherlock that I couldn't take him away from that."

Something deep inside Violet untwisted just the slightest in relief that she wouldn't have to give up her boy. That selfish center of hers just didn't want to do it. "We'll figure something out," she assured him aloud. "Perhaps weekends, once you've taken care of yourself. But until then, and even after, you are always welcome at Baker Street."

He smiled again, and this time, she could see just a little bit less of the pain lingering. "He's very lucky to have you, you know?"

"Harry? Why, thank you, though I'm sure there are plenty of others who would disagree rather loudly with you," she laughed.

"No, not Harry," Sirius corrected. "Well, him, too, I suppose. But I meant Sherlock. He's incredibly lucky to have such an amazing woman by his side. I just- I had always hoped, that after everything was all done, that perhaps- Well, it doesn't matter now, surely. But I'm happy for you, Vi. I just hope he knows how lucky he is."

"I'll be sure to remind him every day," she teased gently. "Now, I do believe you promised a certain little boy a ride on your back. We'd better get back inside before Harry thinks we've abandoned him."


	21. Chapter 21

Mycroft and Anthea left for London that night. "I've been gone for a day and a half already," he pompously reminded his mother. "The catastrophes that would occur should I stay any longer do not bear thinking."

Sherlock and John were called back to London the next morning. Lestrade needed their expertise for a case, so with a kiss to their women and children, they Apparated back home, much to John's very loud protestations. The rest of the house party stayed through Boxing Day, allowing the children to play with their new, adoring uncles for one more day.

"Children are exhausting," Remus complained, though the smile on his face belied his words. Both children were down for a nap, and both men looked as though they might need one, as well.

"You ladies are amazing, caring for them all day the way you do," Sirius added, a hint of his former flirt coming through for the first time.

"Caffeine helps," Violet grinned back at him.

"As does wine," Mary deadpanned, causing the room to roar with laughter.

Everyone settled back into their various previous pursuits, allowing a quiet peace to pervade the room. As peace hadn't been a common commodity in her life, Violet reveled in it. But, as she wasn't terribly accustomed to inactivity, her mind soon began to make plans. The wedding took precedence, of course, with the various other aspects of life that it would change following on its heels. "Sirius, have you straightened out your vault yet?" she asked slowly.

Sirius shook himself, much like his other form's self, to rouse from the light stupor he'd fallen into. "No, Remus and I came straight here from St. Mungo's. I haven't the chance to go so far."

"We could go tomorrow, if you'd like," she offered. "I've still got to have my vaults combined, and should probably combine them with Sherlock's. And Mary, we really should get a vault for you Watsons. After all, Rosie will need it when she goes to Hogwarts."

"What makes you think she'll be going to Hogwarts? After all, isn't there a perfectly good school you told me about in France?" Mary asked, brow furrowed in confusion. Then, as three of the room's occupants stared at her in horrified awe, she let out the laugh she'd been withholding. "Of course, she'll be going to Hogwarts. She'll throw a fit to try and go with her Ree three years early." Her audience relaxed with smiles. "But you lot have your own money? You can't use a debit card?"

The magical people shared an amused laugh. "Remember how we've talked about how backwards the wizarding world is?" Violet began, and Mary nodded. "Well, we do have our own sort of money, galleons, sickles, and knuts, so you'll have to convert yours over."

"A few of the more modern establishments are starting to use something that's a bit like debit cards," Remus added. "But instead of electronically removing the money from your account to the store's, it'd done with magic. Gringotts, though, does have an ATM for Muggle families to get cash out for exchange."

Sirius chimed in with, "And then there's the old families who've always been able to buy on credit. Until I ran away, I never had to carry any money with me, except on the train to Hogwarts."

"And then the Potters became your legal guardians, and you never had to carry money after that, either," Remus pointed out wryly.

"I know for a fact that Euphemia had accounts in every store in Hogsmeade for all four of you, Remus Lupin," Cecelia said, leveling a wry look of her own at him. "Especially after she learned of your condition. She loved you boys as if you were her own, each one of you."

Remus hung his head in mock shamed humility. "So, we're going to Gringotts tomorrow, yes?" he then changed the subject cheekily. It was quickly decided that they would meet Sherlock and John, if done with the case, at the Leaky Cauldron the next morning. Then, they proceeded to fill in Mary on the goings on of Gringotts and what she could expect, i.e., goblins and even a dragon or two.

…

It was an exhausted John and a grumpy Sherlock that that met them at the pub, though both men managed to smile for the children. "The case isn't going well, then?" Violet asked, pressing a swift kiss to Sherlock's cheek. That brought another smile to his lips.

Though John's answer stole it away again. "No, we solved the case. Twenty minutes ago. But we had to work with Donovan again, and she… needled Sherlock a bit."

"What did that whor-rible woman say this time?" Mary hissed.

"I could turn her into a toad, and no one would ever notice a difference," Violet said. Her tone was so conversational, no one would notice she was upset, until they happened to see her hand tightly gripping Sherlock's.

"She said nothing that bears repeating." Sherlock's deep tone told Violet that she needed to speak with John later to find out exactly what Donovan had said. In order to best plan her revenge, of course. "Now, Harry, are you ready to see Diagon Alley? It's spectacular," he told the boy, who nodded enthusiastically. Though that might have been because Sherlock was saying it. Harry still took his every word as gospel.

Both children were situated on shoulders, it was easier than trying to keep hold of tiny hands, and the group made their way to the back of the pub. Remus tapped the correct brick on the wall, which then melted into a portal into the magical world.

Violet enjoyed watching her friends in their wonder as much as she did the children. She and Sherlock had done a bit of magic in front of the Watsons, and they'd been fairly immersed in it that weekend, but nothing really compared to the glory that was Diagon Alley. Here, shops announced every possible magical item for sale, and the displays themselves were a draw to the eye, colorful flashes and sparks mingled with loud pops and bangs.

"That's where we'll get your books for school, children," Remus said, pointing out Flourish and Blotts.

"And here's where we got your brooms, kiddos," Sirius added, dragging them to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"And Slug and Jiggers is where you'll buy your Potion ingredients," Sherlock said, taking the lead, his height giving him the advantage over Sirius.

"Sugarplum's has the best chocolate outside Hogsmeade," Remus interjected, using his height over Sherlock.

Sirius, doggedly determined, headed to Gambol and Jape's. "I'll teach you all the tricks your dad and I used to play on ol' Moony," he grinned.

Violet sighed, watching as the boys fought, nicely, over what to show Harry first. "This could take a while," she told the Watsons, who hadn't moved much from the entrance to the alley. "But, Harry seems to be enjoying himself," she added, noting the grin that covered his face.

Mary started to say something, but a high-pitched "It's Harry Potter!" had Violet moving faster than any Auror's spell. Sirius and Remus tightened ranks, and Sherlock pulled the boy down from his shoulders, now cuddling him to his chest. The woman who'd recognized Harry had drawn a crowd to them, and Violet had to shove several people to get to her boy.

"Harry!"

"Harry Potter!"

"It's so nice to see you, Mr. Potter!"

"I'm just delighted to see you!"

More and more accolades came Harry's way, frightening him deeply. He burrowed into Sherlock's neck, causing his little glasses to dig into both his nose and Sherlock's jugular. Sherlock did nothing to dissuade him, instead, holding him closer and glaring at the crowd around them.

"He's just a little boy!" Remus shouted angrily, and Sirius pushed an overeager man back.

A particularly nasty jinx was forming on the edge of Violet's mind when "Break it up! I'm an Auror, you cow, so back off! He's a boy, not something to gawk at! Leave him alone!"

Never had Violet been so glad to see Alice Longbottom before, with the possible exception of when she'd thought she may have been too late to save the Longbottoms from her own deranged husband and his family. Alice's tiny frame shook with anger as she clung to both a tiny boy's hand and her wand. Her presence, and authority, had the previously eager crowd scurrying guiltily back to their own business. "Go on, leave them alone," she told the Watsons, who had just made it to the rest of their group.

"They're with us," Violet explained. "Thank you, Alice, so much. I was about to land myself in Azkaban, so thank you."

"You weren't the only one," Sirius added darkly.

"Between Madame Bones and Mr. Holmes, I think you would have been fine," Alice chuckled and picked up her son, before turning her attention to the other boy. "Are you alright, Harry?"

He nodded, though refused to remove his face from Sherlock's neck. "There's someone here who'd like to meet you, Harry," Violet said, rubbing the boy's back lovingly. "And he's just your age," she added conspiratorially.

That got his attention. Harry pulled back, sitting in Sherlock's arms as he rubbed his red eyes, his glasses pushed up to his forehead. His gaze quickly found Alice's son. "Hi, I'm Harry," he said softly, still a bit affected.

"'M Neville," was the mumbled reply.

"Did you know, Neville," Alice began, love and adoration oozing out of her every word, "that you and Harry used to play together as babies? And you're almost exactly the same age."

"That's right," Sirius said, trying to bring back a smile to Harry's face. "Neville was born one day, then Harry the next."

"It was at a very sad time, but you boys brought us so much happiness," Remus added, a small, reminiscent smile coming out.

"Why don't we see if Fortescue would mind us coming in a bit early?" Sherlock suggested tightly, leading the way to the ice cream parlor.

Florean Fortescue was a bit surprised to see such a large group on his doorstep two hours before he normally opened, but once he saw Sherlock, he gladly let them in. "Anything you want is on the house!" he exclaimed, only the smallest of double takes when he saw it was Harry in Sherlock's arms.

After plying all three children with ice cream, they each calmed down and began talking with one another. Harry introduced his Rosemud to Nubble, as he christened Neville, and soon, they were well on their way to becoming friends. Although Neville was far quieter than Harry or even Rosie, none of them seemed to mind. And he did seem to open up the more they talked together.

"So, Sherlock," John started with a smile, "what did you do to help Fortescue out?"

"He got Fortescue's nephew cleared as a Death Eater," Violet answered instead. "It was all over the Daily Prophet."

Everyone looked to her, though Sherlock was the only surprised one. The rest seemed more amused than anything. "How did you know it was me? The Prophet never mentioned my name. That was my stipulation with the Fortescues."

"If you don't think I can recognize your handiwork, even through newspaper articles, you need that head examined," Violet shot back.

Sirius barked a laugh. "I know a few different Healers. I could recommend you to one."

Sherlock's answering glare would have felled a lesser man, and had done so to several, but Sirius simply smirked more. "Florean's been rather accommodating ever since," he said coldly. "Free ice cream whenever I come in."

"Which hasn't been nearly often enough for me to repay you," Fortescue said, bringing the adult's ice cream to the table. "Now, you lot can stay in here as long as you like. I don't mind opening a bit later than usual this morning, if needs be. And if anyone needs a refill, just give us a shout." Then he went back inside his office, leaving them with plenty of privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one, especially Sherlock, Sirius, and Remus fighting over what to show Harry first. I laughed so hard when I realized that Remus is 6'2" to Sirius's 5'9.5". And then I realized that Remus is even taller than Sherlock, which just made everything better. I love that mental image!


	22. Chapter 22

The group chatted for more than an hour, allowing the children plenty of time to get to know one another, and recover. Alice was quite interested to meet the Watsons, as well, after giving Violet an amused look when she realized they were Muggles. "Well, it's a good thing little Rosie has magic," she said, "otherwise, I might have to arrest you for flouting the International Statute of Secrecy."

"As you've already said, Alice, Aunt Amelia would have me out in no time," Violet laughed in response.

"Not to mention, Vi's a war hero. No one's going to be seriously questioning her for quite some time," Remus said, grinning slyly over his spoon.

Unfortunately, life outside the little shop still existed, and they soon began their goodbyes. A playdate was arranged over the heads of the children hugging one another goodbye. "And Frank should even be home by then," Alice said happily. "He's recovered far faster than the Healers had hoped, more than I'd hoped. It'll be good to have us all under one roof again."

This time, as they exited Fortescue's shop, Violet held Harry in her arms. She and Mary, holding Rosie, were surrounded by the men, all of whom wore very serious looks. No one dared coming up to see Harry this time. The group was given a wide berth, or as wide as possible in a tiny, winding street full of shoppers, as they moved to the snowy white building at the end of the street.

"What on earth is that?" John, from the other side of Mary, asked out of the side of his mouth. He tried to withhold his somewhat disgusted curiosity, but didn't quite manage.

"I assume that would be a goblin, at the doors of the bank," Mary replied cheerfully. "Look, Rosie, a goblin!"

"You didn't warn him?" Violet accused Sherlock.

Whose mischievously twinkling amusement belied the full truthfulness of his following words. "We were in the middle of a case. When would I have had the time to inform him of the particulars of the Gringotts horde?"

"You simply wanted to see his reaction." Violet slipping her hand into Sherlock's took the sting out of her accusation.

It was decided that Remus would stay with the Watsons and help them get an account set up. "After all, I know a fair bit about the Muggle world. Mum was one, after all," he grinned.

Sirius, as it turned out, merely needed to present himself and his wand to the goblins to reclaim his family accounts, especially since he'd never been formally disowned by his grandfather, the head of the house. However, as many of the previous generation had access to them, and many investments had been made by one or another without the knowledge of the others, they were a mess. "This will take quite some time to sort out," Violet said, looking over his shoulder at the paperwork.

Sirius looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a determined, excited gleam. "This is something I know, Vi. My grandfather and father pounded it into my head from the time I could do sums. I can do this."

She chuckled softly. "I may need your help in sorting out my vaults, then. I'm sure some of the investments in the LeStrange accounts haven't been touched in more than a century."

"Some in two, Ms. Evans," Gormwood responded.

"Oh, merciful Merlin," she groaned.

Sirius laughed. "I'll help you, Vi."

"I can assist, as well," Sherlock assured, though the look in his eye promised he wouldn't enjoy it.

"Why don't we go see the vault, Gormwood?" she suggested, trying to avert the tension. "So we can at least begin to know what we're dealing with."

A young goblin named Blordak was called to take them to the vault, then handed a parchment containing the LeStrange vault catalog and a leather bag containing the Clankers. A special cart had to be called up, one big enough to fit all five of them. Sirius happily took Harry with him in the middle seat, while Violet climbed unenthusiastically into the back with Sherlock. "Just let me know when it's all over," she told Sherlock, who grinned back unsympathetically.

"You love flying on a broomstick, yet you get ill on a ride in the Gringotts carts? I'd forgotten that," he crowed.

She dug her elbow into his side, shutting him up for a moment. Though she did nearly crush his hand with hers as the cart went around various sharp, tight corners. Harry's gleeful laughter flew back to her, making her groan. Which made Sherlock laugh again.

Violet refused to open her eyes again until the cart had fully stopped. As in, waited until everyone else was out and had stopped jostling it. Even then, it took her a few moments to breathe deeply, trying to control her roiling stomach. "Alright, darling, you stay right with us, understand?" she asked Harry, climbing out of the cart with as much dignity as she could muster.

Harry nodded, then squealed with laughter as Sirius swung him up onto his shoulders. "This way you can't run off, little man!" Violet sent a grateful nod to the man, who tipped his head in acknowledgement.

Blordak pulled out the small metal Clankers. "Stay close to me," he said with authority, striding toward the cavern holding the LeStrange vault. The three adult humans followed closely, all rather keen to get the visit done with.

Shaking the Clankers viciously, Blordak entered the cave, grinning as he saw the dragon back away in fear. The poor thing was pale and nearly blind, bearing vicious scars from its treatment at the hands of the goblins. "Back, you lazy, ugly thing!" Blordak yelled, shaking the Clankers even harder, and the dragon backed itself even more into the corner opposite the one they headed for.

"Why's he so mean to th' dragon?" Harry's voice broke a bit in sorrow.

"It's nothing more than a dumb beast," Blordak scoffed. "Its entire purpose is to protect these vaults."

"Tha's not very nice," Harry argued, his little arms coming to cross against his chest, and subsequently, on top of Sirius's head.

"What do you know? You're a child, and a human," Blordak sneered.

"Enough!" Sherlock boomed. "Blordak, do not speak another word unless spoken to. Otherwise, you will quickly find what powerful human families can do, even to a goblin such as yourself."

The young goblin's nostrils flared in anger, but he kept his mouth shut. He led the rest of the way to the vault in silence, and so happened to not see Harry, still on Sirius's shoulders, sticking out his tongue at the goblin. Violet had to repress the laugh that bubbled up in favor of a mildly reproachful head shake aimed at her nephew. He instantly lowered his eyes in shame. It's my duty to teach him manners and to respect others, even when they don't deserve it, she reminded herself. After all, I highly doubt Sirius will. And if left to Sherlock, he'll be verbally cutting others to pieces before he ever starts school. Primary school.

Blordak opened the vault door, bowing obsequiously for them to enter. They did so, then he shut the door behind them all, keeping the dragon on the other side of the door. Violet sighed as she looked at the haphazardly stacked items all around the vault. "May I have the catalog, Blordak?" she asked, polite insistence infusing her words. He handed it over with utmost begrudging, and she and Sherlock began to look it over. Harry and Sirius began to peruse the items, though Sirius was careful not to touch anything. He knew his cousin and her twisted madness far too well for that.

Sherlock and Violet began matching items to their corresponding title on the list but quickly realized it would take ages to get through everything on the list. And it soon mattered little, as Harry began screaming. "It hurts, Siri! It hurts!"

Everyone turned to see the tiny boy clutching his forehead, screaming his lungs out. Sirius was panicked, trying to wrangle the uncooperative boy down, but nearly strangled himself in the process. With a speed Violet hadn't known he'd possessed, Sherlock crossed the little room and scooped Harry into his arms, crossing back to Violet's side just as quickly.

The short distance seemed to help Harry. His screams stopped immediately, though he still whimpered in pain. "What is it, darling? What's the matter?" Violet asked, heart in her throat and fire in her veins. If something in the vault had hurt her boy, she'd set the whole place on fire, regardless of any monetary value it might hold.

"My head hurts, Auntie," Harry said, voice tiny. "Jus' on my scar."

She gently coaxed his hands down to take a look at it, then had to swallow a gasp. The scar, normally a pale pink against Harry's naturally pale skin, was now a lurid, angry red. "Blordak, take Sherlock and Harry back upstairs immediately, then come back for Sirius and me. Please." She added the please merely to be polite, but there was no disguising the command in her voice.

"And speak to no one of this," Sherlock warned, voice deepening with the implied threat.

Blordak bowed once more, then did as ordered. As soon as the door was shut behind him, Violet turned to Sirius. "Show me where you were."

Sirius took her further into the vault, stopping nearly at the back. "We were about here," he said, scrutinizing everything around them, as if whatever had hurt Harry would stand out immediately.

Violet pushed past him. She was seriously contemplating simply summoning Fiendfyre and slamming the vault door, just as Sirius said, "Why in Godric's name is there a cup with the Hufflepuff crest in here?"

He pulled it down from the shelf, turning it over in his hands to examine it. Violet, however, was scanning through the list still clutched in her hand. "The LeStranges have been in Slytherin almost as long as the school's been open," she mumbled, still pouring over the items on the list. "H, h, hippogriff skeleton, house elf heads, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, not here, cup, maybe? Cup, cup, cup, ah! Cup with Hufflepuff crest, rumored to have been a gift made for Helga Hufflepuff, placed in vault by Bellatrix Black LeStrange on the ninth of December, twenty-ten."

"Why did Bella have something that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff?"

Violet was barely aware of Sirius's question, as she was going through past events in her head, trying to match them to a calendar date. "I think Voldemort gave it to her to keep it safe," she said, eyes widening in astonishment. "I remember Bella was so giddy that Christmas, in a good mood for the entirety of the month. It couldn't have been because of Rodolphus; he'd never made her happy at all, let alone for an entire month. But everyone knew she was obsessed with Voldemort. His attention and good opinion sent her soaring."

"So, if he'd trusted something so important to her, it would have made her month," Sirius concluded.

"Exactly. And given that Harry reacted to something in here, I'd be willing to bet this entire vault that it's connected to Voldemort," she replied. Thinking quickly, she enchanted the air around the cup, creating the sort of magical vacuum around it that she and Sherlock used on his experiments to keep Harry from accidentally hurting himself. "We need to speak with Dumbledore," she said, slipping the cup into her handbag.

They had to wait a few minutes for Blordak to return, all of which saw Violet violently tapping her foot and Sirius occasionally punching items. Violet tried to be productive, looking over the catalog for anything else Bella may have placed in the vault, but it all seemed fairly innocuous. At least as innocuous as anything relating to the LeStrange family could be. It had to be the cup. Her musings were cut short when Blordak returned, allowing the two of them to leave the vault.

Violet's worried anger kept her from noticing the cart ride back up to the surface. They met the others, and words spilled from her lips. "We need to speak with Dumbledore."

But Sherlock was speaking, as well. "We're to Portkey to Mycroft's house immediately."

That got her attention well enough. "You spoke with Mycroft already?"

"This is important," he told her, smoothing Harry's hair back from his face. "Our Harry takes first priority over everything else," he added, grinning at the boy.

"Are you feeling better, darling?" Violet asked Harry. "Does you head still hurt?"

The little boy shook his head. "I feel better now, Auntie. Are we going to see Uncle Moft now?"

Even for the seriousness of the situation, the way he mispronounced Mycroft's name brought a smile to all the adults' faces. "Yes, we are. And you, my boy, are going to take your very first Portkey," Sherlock answered, taking off his scarf. He held it in one hand, the other still supporting Harry, then the scarf glowed a brighter blue. "Everyone, take hold please, and whatever you do, don't let go," he instructed.

Even John did so with very little fuss, making sure Rosie was also holding on, though as she was still in his arms, it didn't matter much. Then, with a swirling motion, the lot of them were pulled off their feet and through the air.

There was quite a lot of swirling, with twists thrown in, before the group landed in a heap on an expensive marble floor. "Far too many of your methods of travel involve spinning, mate," John groaned, his eyes closed against the world.

"Anthea will take the children to play," Mycroft's demanding voice said, coming from above them all. "And I do hope you'll teach them how to properly land from a Portkey, Brother Mine."

Sherlocked glared as he helped Harry to stand, then did so, himself. "You know perfectly well that it's ridiculously difficult to land well with this many people, Mycroft."

"Which is why I never take a Portkey," was the flippant response.

"We would have Apparated, if your bloody mansion wasn't warded against anyone but family doing so," Sherlock growled.

Violet's hand on his stopped the argument from going any further. "Harry, darling, you and Rosie get to go play with Aunt Thea, but you be good for her, alright?"

"Of course, you'll be good for me. You're a gem, aren't you, Harry?" Anthea said, taking Rosie from Mary.

"I'm a boy, Thea," he said, sounded terribly confused.

"Yes, you are," she laughed, leading him up the stairs. "And you are quite possibly the best little boy on the planet. Did you know that?" Rosie's delighted giggle told everyone that she, at least, thought so.

"Mother and Father will be here shortly," Mycroft said, leading everyone else into his library.

"We need Dumbledore here, as well," Violet demanded. "I have a feeling that he knows far more about this than he lets on."

"The fireplace is right over there," Mycroft gestured, already buried himself back into his work.

At least Mycroft's fireplace is a decently tall one, Violet thought, marching over to it. She lit a fire, threw in the green powder, and said the address needed.

"Ms. Evans, what a surprise," the headmaster said, looking at her in concern as she stepped through his fireplace. "Is every-"

"No, Professor, everything is not alright, hence my need to visit you," she said, cutting him off heedlessly. "I had Harry with me as I visited my family vault, and he reacted quite badly to something in there. His scar hurt, Professor, and I think you might understand why. We need your help, Sir."


	23. Chapter 23

Dumbledore stared hard at Violet, like he wasn't quite comprehending what she'd said. She waited for a moment, but when he showed no sign of moving, she said, quite loudly, "That wasn't a request, Professor. Whatever this is, it is putting my Harry at risk, causing him pain, and I will do whatever it takes to put an end to it. I'm certain it has something to do with Voldemort, and I'm absolutely certain you know something, or surely several somethings, that can help. Now, come help Sherlock and me put a stop to this mess."

Dumbledore stared a bit more, then rose gracefully from his desk. "Of course, Ms. Evans. Please, lead on."

She rolled her eyes, but did as suggested. "Mycroft Holmes's house," she declared, throwing the green powder once more.

Sherlock was there, waiting as she climbed out of the fireplace. He flicked away any stray soot on her with barely a thought. The only outward indication of either's deep-seated fear and anxiety was the way they clung to each other's hand, desperately trying to figure out what had happened to their little boy. He focused on her, ignoring the elderly wizard who climbed out behind her.

"Sherlock! Violet! What happened?" Suddenly, Cecelia and William were in the library, hurrying to the youngest couple in the room. Anxiety was written all over their faces. "Mycroft said Harry was hurt," Cecelia continued, looking around for the boy.

"Where is he?" William asked. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine, playing with Rosie under the watchful eye of Anthea," Sherlock assured, for once giving answers without being difficult. He knew just how much the boy meant to his parents, and he did have a heart, after all.

"Why don't we all sit down?" Mycroft suggested silkily. "Then Sherlock and Violet can tell us just what happened, yes? Oh, and welcome, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for taking the time to help us out on our little family problem."

Sherlock almost cursed his brother for downplaying what had happened to Harry, but Violet stopped him. "You know he's playing Dumbledore," she hissed. "If you feel the need to curse him later, by all means, do so, but wait until after we've figured this out."

He agreed, but just barely. As the rest of the room settled into seats, he continued standing, pacing back and forth along one wall. "Now, why don't you tell us all what happened at Gringotts?" Mycroft continued, acting as the solicitous older brother.

"Do you happen to have a Pensieve, Mycroft?" Sirius asked suddenly. "It would make it far easier to simply show you all, rather than have us tell you."

Mycroft studied Sirius appraisingly for a moment, before getting up. Walking over to his desk, he tapped his wand on the top of it, which then opened to reveal an empty, intricately carved stone basin. "So, which of you would like to share their memory?" he asked, looking from Sherlock to Violet with a smirk.

"I will," Sirius immediately offered, saving the other two. As both highly valued their minds and privacy, sharing something as personal as a memory was uncomfortable, to say the least, though both were willing to do it, if it meant helping Harry. Anything for Harry, after all.

Wand to his temple, Sirius pulled the silvery memory from his head, bringing a quiet gasp from the Watsons. "That's a memory," Violet explained quietly to the only two Muggles in the room. "Sirius will place it in the Pensieve, then we can all view the memory. Though it may be quite crowded in the vault," she added a bit louder for the rest of the group to hear.

"The Pensieve will adapt the physical space for all parties," Dumbledore replied, "without distorting the memory at all."

"How-" John started to ask, then shook his head. "Magic. Never mind. Let's get on with it, then."

One by one, the entire party slipped into the Pensieve, with Sherlock and Violet at the end. They'd been there, after all, and neither needed or cared to view the experience again, but did so for the sake of their Muggle friends. John, in particular, seemed leery of the whole idea. He braved it, however, for his friends.

Sherlock, Violet, and Sirius stayed in the back, so that the others, who hadn't been present at the time, could see the whole thing unobstructed. When it came to Harry's little cry, Violet squeezed Sherlock's hand so tightly, his index finger cracked under the pressure. Neither even noticed, as their entire focus was on the memory of their boy.

Everyone found themselves back in the library after the memory was finished. The room was silent for quite a while as they all processed just what they had seen. Predictably, it was Mycroft who broke the silence. "Would we be able to see this cup, Violet?" he asked, for once without his usual pomposity. After all, this was a family matter, and he did care for Harry, even if he liked to hide it.

Violet pulled the cup from her handbag. Placing it on the table between them all, she then removed the vacuum spell. Instantly, John, Remus, Cecelia, and William recoiled from it, while the others seemed mostly unaffected. "That thing feels evil," John muttered, pressing himself back into his chair, as if to escape the effect the cup's presence was having on him.

"That feels exactly like what it felt like to be near Voldemort," Remus added, with his nose curled in distaste.

William looked to Dumbledore expectantly. "Would I be correct to assume that it is a Horcrux?"

Dumbledore kept his gaze fixed on the cup. "I'm afraid that your assumption is most probably correct." He then closed his eyes, as if to shield himself from the evil sitting so seemingly innocently in front of him.

"You don't seem terribly surprised, Headmaster." For once, Violet agreed with Mycroft, something she was sure wouldn't happen again. At least not in this lifetime.

"Would you mind if we put the cup away?" Dumbledore asked Violet. "And then, I feel I have a very long story to share with you all."

Violet wordlessly sealed the cup again, and the four most sensitive members of the party relaxed visibly. "We've got the rest of the day, Professor," she said, with just a touch of mockery in the title.

Dumbledore's lips twitched, but then he sighed and began speaking. "In nineteen-thirty-eight, I was given the task to introduce magic to about half of the Muggleborn students who were invited to attend Hogwarts as First Years that year. One of those students was Tom Marvolo Riddle, an orphan living in Muggle London, though he wasn't actually a Muggleborn. Rather, he was a Half-blood, though raised in the Muggle world. He took the news of magic surprisingly well, or rather, not surprising, since he'd already begun mastery of his own magic without even the help of a wand. Over the course of our interview, not only did I find that he was an exceptionally bright, cunning child, but he also had a cruel streak, stealing from and harming those who'd slighted him. I warned him that such behavior would not be tolerated at Hogwarts, and he affected a very contrite attitude."

"You say 'affected'," Mary began. "You didn't believe him to be sincere?"

Dumbledore huffed wryly. "Tom was a very good actor for an eleven-year-old, but not quite good enough to fool someone who taught adolescents for years by that time."

"It also helped that you're a Legilimens," Sherlock snorted in disdain. Violet shot him an annoyed glance, but he simply shook his head in dismissal. Of course he hadn't meant to slight her with his disdain; it was only meant for those who thought they needed to learn the trait to manipulate others, not those born with it. Once she understood that, Violet smirked at her fiance.

"Yes, that helped, as well," Dumbledore acknowledged, not even noticing the interaction between the two, as it had taken mere seconds. "I vowed to keep an eye on Tom once he got to Hogwarts, but he appeared to be a model student while at school. He received excellent marks, Outstandings in nearly every subject he sat for. He was a Prefect, then Head Boy. And he collected a close-knit, incredibly loyal group of followers."

Violet closed her eyes at the word "followers". She could see where this was going, but needed to know the route it took to get there.

"While at Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, "Tom was obsessed with finding out about his family. He came to find that he hailed from the Riddles on his father's side, and the Gaunts on his mother's."

"Wait, Riddles, Gaunts. Did they live in Little Hangleton? In Yorkshire?" John asked intently.

"Why, yes, they did. How did you know that?" Dumbledore wasn't the only one curious. John was getting odd looks from everyone else in the room.

Except for Sherlock. "Your grandmother lived in Little Hangleton."

"Exactly." John seemed incredibly surprised that his friend had remembered something so trivial. "Yeah, she lived there almost her entire life, and she loved to share the gossip about the Riddles up in the big house, as she called it. They were a ridiculously wealthy family who loved to lord their money over the rest of the village, until they died suspiciously. And the Gaunts were a family of crazy tramps living in some hovel outside the village. It was quite the scandal when the Riddles' son ran away with the Gaunt girl. Gran loved to tell that story, even after all this time. I suppose that Tom Riddle's father was a wizard, and he seduced the poor Gaunt girl with magic, yes?"

Dumbledore laughed shortly. "Not quite. Tom's mother, Merope Gaunt, was actually the witch who'd fallen in love with the handsome rich Muggle boy. She brewed a very powerful love potion and gave it to Tom Riddle Senior. They ran away together and got married, as she continued to feed him the love potion. Once she was pregnant, she stopped giving him the potion, for whatever reason, and once Tom Senior came back to his senses, he left her. She was left pregnant and destitute, and, I suspect, heartbroken."

This new twist to the story left the room stunned. "And she died when she gave birth?" Cecelia whispered.

"Unfortunately, yes," Dumbledore answered, utterly grave. "She lived long enough to give the baby a name, and then passed away."

Sherlock had been pacing for the last ten minutes, but he suddenly stopped. "The Gaunts were an old Pureblood family, probably one of the very oldest. From Slytherin's line, yes?"

Dumbledore nodded, a little awed by the leap in logic. "Yes, they claimed to be Slytherin's heirs, and as they were all Parselmouths, had the ability to speak to snakes, I dare say they were most probably correct."

"Riddle was Slytherin's heir," Violet breathed, snatches of memories from her school days running through her mind. "He was the Heir of Slytherin. He opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"That he did, though he managed to convince everyone else that it had been poor Hagrid, instead," Dumbledore nodded.

"Sorry, what's the Chamber of Secrets?" Mary asked, looking a bit lost in all the wizarding babble going on around her. John didn't look much better, now that the conversation had gone beyond Little Hangleton.

"The Chamber of Secrets was a room prepared by one of the founders of Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin, deep in the castle itself. He believed that magic should only be taught to those from magical families, and one of the very first proponents of Pureblood ideology," Remus explained, looking a bit sick to his stomach. "It's said that he left a monster inside, one who would be controlled only by his Heir to cleanse the school of those unworthy."

"Of course," Sherlock breathed, causing everyone to look to him again. "It's rather clever, really. The name, I mean."

"I am Lord Voldemort," Violet added, sharing a smirk with her fiancé.

"What are you two going on about?" Sirius asked, looking from one to the other in utter confusion.

Mycroft held out his umbrella, wherein his wand resided. He wrote golden letters in the air, "Tom Marvolo Riddle", then waved his wand again. The letters rearranged themselves to become "I am Lord Voldemort".

"So, this Riddle bloke changed his name to Lord Voldemort and became the wizarding version of Hitler."

"Leave it to John to sum up things so nicely," Sherlock said, sparing his best friend a quick grin.

"Yes, Tom Riddle came up with the name Lord Voldemort while he was still in school," Dumbledore confirmed. "He hated his name once he realized it came from a Muggle. He distanced himself completely from the Riddle family, even going so far as to kill his father and paternal grandparents, and frame his maternal uncle for it."

"Wait, so crazy old Frank didn't actually kill the Riddles?" John asked. When looked at questioningly by the rest, he added, "Everyone thought it was the caretaker. He was the only one with a key, so the police thought he had done it. They couldn't ever prove it, and eventually, they had to let him go."

"No, Frank Bryce didn't kill them, and neither did Morfin Gaunt, as the Aurors thought. Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, did. I believe he then made the Gaunt family signet ring, which he stole from Morfin, into a Horcrux."

"Alright, so he's made two Horcruxes," Sirius said, looking utterly disgusted.

"Actually, I believe he made far more than that." Dumbledore's reply was said with so much gravity that Violet nearly didn't recognize him.

"You've said that word before, Horcrux. What is it?" John asked.

Sherlock answered succinctly. "It is a container for a piece of a human soul, John. It keeps a person from complete death, though it is made through horrible actions. One must purposefully kill another human being, among other things, ripping one's soul into pieces. And a soul that is ripped apart so horrifically can never be made whole again."

Mary looked a bit panicked. "And this sort of thing is common knowledge in your world?"

"No, Mary, I assure you, it's not," Violet rushed to say. "I've only ever heard whispers about them, and that's because I lived with some of the most Dark, insane people in England."

"Same here," Sirius said, smiling with absolutely no mirth.

William sighed. "I've researched many things, many ancient things, and I've come across a few obscure references to them."

"And I've read all of his research," Sherlock added. Mycroft nodded in agreement.

"So, this Riddle, this Voldemort ripped his soul into pieces to avoid dying?" John was incredulous. "That's utterly ridiculous! Everyone dies at some point in life."

"But that was Tom's greatest fear," Dumbledore replied softly. "Death was a weakness that needed to be overcome. And it would appear that he has succeeded, to an extent."

"Let me make sure I understand this correctly. Voldemort is dead, but not really, because he has those Horcrux things, yes?" Mary asked. Once several members of the party nodded in affirmation, she continued. "But what has this all got to do with Harry?"

"Voldemort killed Harry's parents," Sherlock answered, squeezing Violet's shoulder in comfort.

"And he tried to kill Harry, as well," she finished. "That's where Harry's scar came from, the Killing Curse rebounding somehow. It killed Voldemort, instead of Harry."

Mary and John stared at her in wonderment, while she, along with Remus and Sirius, fought back the emotions that were being dragged up once more. Finally, John breathed out, "Magic is freaky," causing the tension to break slightly.


	24. Chapter 24

"You may as well tell us the prophecy now, Headmaster," Mycroft drawled. "Since we all know about it, and I'm sure that's why Riddle went after Harry in the first place."

Dumbledore sighed. Violet noticed that he seemed to have aged since he'd arrived, for once not appearing ageless. Instead of answering, he simply Summoned Mycroft's Pensieve to him, held his wand to his temple, and removed a long, silvery memory. He placed it in the bowl and prodded it with his wand. A figure rose from the bowl and spoke, voice harsh and cold. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

As the seer dissolved back into the bowl, the occupants of the room were silent, each contemplating the prophecy. Sherlock, predictably, was the one to break it. "If you were the one to whom the prophecy was given, how did Voldemort hear of it?"

Dumbledore hadn't prepared himself for that question, though, to be fair, he really should have. "One of his Death Eaters overheard part of it and relayed it to him," he hedged.

"Which one?" Violet demanded.

"Does it really matter?"

"Of course, it does! I want to make sure that the scum who gave my sister's name to Voldemort pays for what he did!" she replied furiously.

"This Death Eater realized the error of his ways and became a spy for me," Dumbledore answered, his calm directly opposing her anger. "At grave peril to himself, I might add."

Violet glared at him, as Mycroft chuckled. And when her eyes first flew open in surprise, then narrowed in fierce hatred, he outright laughed. "You're not the only Legilimens in the room, Headmaster," he told the older man. "And I daresay, Violet is probably the better."

"Snape," she spat. "Severus Snape was the one who sold Lily and James to Voldemort. I'm going to kill him."

"He didn't realize it would be her," Dumbledore hurried to say, and to fortify his mental defenses.

"So, it would have been alright had it been anybody else?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Wait, Severus, why does that name sound familiar?" John asked suddenly.

"Because he was Lily's best friend growing up, not to mention in love with her," Sirius answered. "I assume Vi or Sherlock mentioned him to you, though I can't imagine it would have been a pleasant mention, as Snape is a particularly unpleasant person."

"So, Snape happened to overhear the prophecy and went scurrying back to his master," Remus said, fury barely contained in his tone. "Then, when he realized it made Lily a target, he came crawling to you? Is that what happened, Professor?"

It was a shock to the Headmaster to hear Remus addressing him so. After all, Remus had always been so incredibly grateful to him, even during the war, even when he had received such terrible missions. And to hear him so angry, with that anger directed at the Headmaster himself, well, that was surprising, indeed. He began to speak, but Violet cut him off.

"No, not at first," she answered Remus, though continued to glare at Dumbledore. "Snape begged Voldemort for Lily's life, at the expense of her husband and child. As per his usual, dear old Sev only concerned himself with what he wanted. He didn't care what happened to James or Harry, so long as Lily was saved for him. But he didn't think that was enough, so then, he crawled to Dumbledore. And only after Dumbledore had received Snape's word that he would become a spy for him did Dumbledore promise he would hide Lily, James, and Harry."

A gasp came from Cecelia. "Albus, how could you? How could you condition a family's safety on the actions of someone else?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "I planned to keep them safe, regardless of Severus's actions, Cecelia," he said, opening them to look at her finally. "But I needed his help, if we were to end the war. It was the only way I could see to keep people, including the Potters, safe."

"So, that's why you vouched for him during the trials," Remus concluded, still looking at the man he'd venerated for so long with distrust and more than a trace of anger. "And that's why you've kept him at Hogwarts."

Violet nearly threw something at the old man. Probably a curse. "He's at Hogwarts?!"

"He teaches Potions, and he's rather good," he replied.

Not for long, she silently vowed. Most definitely before Harry gets there.

Sherlock smirked quickly, knowing exactly what his fiancée was thinking. And he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Lily's childhood best friend became a Death Eater, betrayed her, and then turned on Voldemort," Mary once again summed up. "And the prophecy marked Harry as the one to defeat Voldemort. So, how do we get rid of him without Harry doing it? Since, I assume, we're not going to stick around and wait for him to come back."

"Of course not," Violet answered immediately, with Sherlock sneering, "Don't be ridiculous."

"I didn't think so," she replied calmly, "so what do we do?"

"We destroy his Horcruxes, all of them," William concluded with finality. After all, this was his grandson in trouble, and he wasn't about to let something happen to the little boy.

Mycroft was contemplative. "Just how many do you think he's made, Headmaster?"

"I can't be sure," came the halting reply. "Hufflepuff's cup, to be sure, and a ring with his family's crest, the Gaunts'. Probably something else from one or more of the other Founders, as he was obsessed with Hogwarts and its history. I'm afraid I don't know more than that, though…" he trailed off, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"Though, what?" Sherlock snapped, then ignored the scolding look his mother aimed at him.

"You might have better luck than me, Miss Evans," Dumbledore said, looking to her with a smile. "Horace Slughorn has a memory that might tell us how many Horcruxes Tom made."

"I'll visit him in the morning, then," she said immediately. "But you're not telling us the whole truth." She looked at him intently, then gasped. "No. No, it can't be."

"What is it?" came from several parties.

But Sherlock took one look at his Violet, then shook his head. His brother was doing the same. "You think Harry is a Horcrux."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's this week's batch! Thanks for reading, and a big thanks to those of you who take the time to leave reviews. They make me so happy! And MagicalQueerFolk especially, you deserve all the thanks for reviewing nearly every chapter. And your comments never fail to crack me up!


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock's pronouncement brought a horrified silence over the room, though he and Violet only had eyes for Dumbledore. At Sherlock's words, he'd gone grey, his eyes closed, and he seemed to age even more. "That's why you left Harry with the Dursleys."

Remus spoke barely louder than a whisper, but Dumbledore felt that was worse than if he'd shouted. The young man, who looked far older than his years, stood, hands clenched in tight fists, the cords in his neck standing out in sharp relief against his thin frame. Which frame shook with his barely controlled anger. "That's why I couldn't take Harry, why you wouldn't let me take Harry. You knew Petunia hated Lily, and you wanted Harry raised there so he would be your grateful little puppet once he got to Hogwarts. You wanted him to have such a low opinion of himself that he would think nothing of sacrificing himself for others. You wanted him to die!"

Remus's last shouted words rang in the air as Dumbledore lifted his sorrow-lined face to answer. "I never wanted him to die. I never wanted James and Lily's boy to suffer. And I had no idea that the Dursleys would be so unforgiving of such an innocent. But I admit, I knew he would not be cossetted, not be pampered the way he would if raised in the wizarding world. And with the belief that Riddle put in the prophecy, he marked Harry as the only one who could defeat him."

"Hogwash," Cecelia answered viciously, stunning nearly everyone in the room. "Harry is just a boy, while we have some of the brightest minds in our world right in this very room. I'm sure we can find a solution that doesn't involve a boy going against an insane Dark wizard. Besides, I've never put much stock in divination."

Her stern admonition galvanized the room. "Who else could Voldemort have trusted with one of those Hor- those things?" John asked, watching as Sherlock began frantically pacing once more.

"I'm sure Lucius would have had one," Sirius said, glancing at Violet for confirmation.

"Yes, he was always kissing Voldemort's feet," she agreed. "It appears that I have another visit to make. It's past time I visited my other godson, anyway."

"He would have thought that Little Hangleton would have been a good place to hide something," Sherlock concluded, his mind still going in multiple directions at once.

Mycroft nodded. "It would be a little inside joke, with him being the only one in on it. He never told anyone about his origins, I assume, and it would commemorate his first kills. A high distinction for one such as him."

"Dumbledore, you said he had an obsession with the Founders," Mary began. "Are there any possessions of the other Founders that we know of, besides Hufflepuff's cup?"

"Gryffindor's sword has resided in the Headmaster's chambers at Hogwarts for millennia," he replied. "It is the only known relic of Gryffindor's to survive, besides the Sorting Hat. And that's also not a possibility."

John looked highly concerned. "The Sorting Hat?" he mouthed, completely incredulous, but no one paid him any mind.

"Hepzibah Smith claimed that she was a descendant of Hufflepuff, would never shut up about it, really," William said, reminiscing. "I think she said her family had something of Hufflepuff's, so that was probably the cup. Though she did die a while ago, so I assume that's how Riddle got it."

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm afraid you are correct, William. I was able to interview Hepzibah's house elf upon her untimely death, and Riddle did visit shortly there before. Hepzibah showed him her most prized treasures, her cup."

"You're leaving something out, Headmaster," Violet snapped, glaring at him. She knew he was withholding something, but his mental walls were up and keeping her from knowing just what it was.

He sighed again. "I am, Ms. Evans. I apologize. I'm not used to sharing so much with others. Hepzibah also showed Riddle a locket, one that belonged to Slytherin himself, one that Merope Gaunt sold just before giving birth to her son. I am sure that he also stole the locket to make it into a Horcrux, as well."

"So, we've got a locket somewhere that we need to find, as well. Anything else from one of those Founders?" John asked, doing a remarkable job of keeping up with the conversation, even for not knowing very much about magic.

The rest of the room was silent as they all tried to think. "Ravenclaw's diadem is the only thing I can think of that might fall into that category, but it's been lost for centuries," Remus said, still avoiding looking at his former mentor.

"We'll file that away for later," Sherlock said, brushing it aside. He still paced, brushing Violet's shoulder every time he passed her. "Violet, you'll be making your visits in the morning, I presume?" She nodded. "I will go with you, if you'd like."

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn would love to meet you," she replied with a hint of a smirk before falling serious again. "But I think I should visit Cissa on my own. At least, for this first time."

He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. "Then, I think a visit to Little Hangleton is in order. John, do you happen to have the afternoon free?" he asked, turning to his best friend.

John nodded immediately, but didn't have the chance to respond. "We'll go with you, as well," Sirius said, gesturing to Remus.

Violet saw Sherlock begin to protest and quelled it with a look. "That would be lovely, thank you, boys," she said instead.

"John, I'm scheduled at the surgery tomorrow," Mary reminded regretfully.

Once again, he didn't have an opportunity to reply before Cecelia said, "I'll be over bright and early to collect the children. After all, after such an ordeal, they need extra pampering."

"I'll see what more I can find about Horcruxes," William volunteered. "Specifically, on how to destroy them."

"Anthea will look more into Riddle's background, see what she can dig up," Mycroft announced. "I've a meeting with a very old friend that couldn't possibly be put off."

Dumbledore looked a bit lost, as though he wasn't used to being anything less than in charge. Violet supposed that was probably true. "If you could compile everything you've found so far, Headmaster, we will have some place to start," she told him, taking the slightest pity on the old man. After all, it wouldn't do to alienate someone who knew so much and had the possibility of being of use.

Once everyone had their marching orders, there really was no reason to linger any longer. Dumbledore was the first to leave, after promising to comb through all of his memories (both his own and those he had collected). Remus and Sirius said goodbye to the adults before hurrying out of the room to say goodbye to the children.

"Thank you, Mycroft," Violet said softly, as William told John and Mary what he'd found about John's heritage.

Mycroft's raised eyebrow was the only indication that she had surprised him. "He's my nephew, or will be, once you two marry. I protect my family, and I've learned from my past mistakes in that regard. I'll not let anything bad happen to him, not if I can prevent it. And besides, I have goldfish to do the footwork for me."

"In any case, thank you," Sherlock said, for the first time in his life.

"Had I known he would inspire this kind of thanks," Mycroft replied, smirking, "I would have tried to bring Harry into your life sooner. Now, I have work to get back to, and you have a little boy in need of comfort, I'm sure."

Violet took Sherlock's hand, pulling him toward the others to prevent an argument between the brothers.

"That's why she always had us drink those nasty tonics just before going to bed!" John exclaimed, just as the couple joined them.

"I've just informed John that his grandmother was a Squib," William said, in answer to Violet's questioning look.

"My granny, not the one who lived in Little Hangleton," John clarified. "She lived with us for years, and anytime Harry or I got sick, she always gave us these terrible tonics, always just before bedtime. And we always woke up feeling better. But she never would tell us what was in them, just grin and say it was Granny magic. It actually was magic. I always thought she was just a bit cracked."

"Well, she was related to you, so that's not necessarily out of the question," Mary grinned at him.

A dark-haired streak shot towards Violet, wrapping itself around her legs. "Hello, my darling," she said softly, pulling Harry into her arms. "Did you have a nice time with Aunt Thea?" He nodded, or rather, buried his face further in her neck with a nodding motion. "And what do you tell Aunt Thea?" she prompted.

"Thank you, Aunt Thea," he said, popping out only long enough to say the words and wave to the woman in question.

"You are so very welcome," Anthea said brightly, handing Rosie over to Mary. "It's always a pleasure to spend time with some of my very favorite people."

That earned her a tiny, peeking out grin from the little boy, and a laugh from the baby.

It didn't take long for all the farewells to be said, and for each of the families to head home. Mrs. Hudson had a pot of her onion and garlic soup waiting for the Baker Street trio, along with copious kisses and snuggles for Harry. And at bedtime, it took four more stories than usual for Harry to finally fall asleep.

Neither of his adults were settled, however. Sherlock paced for hours, violently turning every time he reached a wall. Violet sat on the couch, looking, to all the world, calm and collected. However, Sherlock recognized the anger written in her every line, the plotting going on behind her eyes. Finally, after midnight, he recognized that neither of them was calming down, so he reached for his violin. It took less than twenty minutes of him playing for Violet to begin drooping, and only forty for her to be asleep. He played for a bit more, to make sure she would still sleep, then he carefully carried her to their room. As he settled her on their bed, she fisted his shirt. "You're not leaving me alone tonight," she murmured, looking up at him.

"Of course not," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "I wouldn't dream of it."

A sleepy smile crossed her face. "I'm glad you know who's in charge here."

He huffed a laugh. "It's always been you, my love. Always you."


	26. Chapter 26

"Good morning, Mummy," Sherlock said, kissing his mother as she stepped out of the fireplace.

"Good morning, darling," she replied brightly. "Is Harry ready to go?"

"He's just brushing his teeth, and then he'll be ready." Violet came out of the bathroom to greet her future mother-in-law. "I've decided to bring him along when I go visit Cissa this afternoon. I think he and Draco will become good friends, once they decide that they actually can share me."

"You just want to get Draco out of the way so you can talk with Narcissa in private," Sherlock pointed out.

She shrugged. "That will help. But thank you for taking him this morning, Cecelia. I'm not going to subject him to Slughorn just yet."

Cecelia harumphed. "Horace would fawn over poor Harry. It would frighten him, and he's had enough of that already."

"Gran'ma!" A little voice cried, as Harry launched himself across the room. He hugged Cecelia enthusiastically, even though he'd seen her just the day before.

"Hello, my boy," she said happily, crouching to be on his level. "Are you ready to go home with me?"

"Rosemud's gonna come, right?"

"I'm going to pick Rosie up, just as soon as I take you back to my house. You'll stay with Granddad while I fetch her, alright?"

Harry nodded firmly, taking his coat from Violet, who reminded, "Be good for Grandma and Granddad, alright? And help with Rosie."

He nodded again, then gave hugs to his two adults. "Love you, Auntie," he said softly.

"I love you, too, my darling," she said, smiling widely, unable to contain the joy such a simple statement brought her.

"Le's get Rosemud!" Harry happily chirped, spinning to face his grandmother. She smiled, picked him up, and stepped into the fireplace with a flash of emerald flames.

Violet turned to Sherlock with a wry grin. "Are you ready to meet Professor Slughorn? I have to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing this."

"Anything to bring a smile to your face," he replied, leaning down to kiss her. However, just a hair's breadth away, he stopped and pulled back. "May I kiss you?"

She answered by kissing him quickly. "I'm beginning to enjoy kissing," she said lowly, feeling inexplicably shy.

Sherlock, however, grew incredibly pleased. "I'm glad I could change your opinion on the matter."

"Don't get too full of yourself," Violet teasingly scolded, further contradicting herself when she stretched up to kiss him again.

Several kisses later, they finally separated enough to Apparate to the address Professor Dumbledore had owled over that morning. Or rather, the village it was in. "Charming place, Chatterly," Sherlock said, disdainful tone in clear opposition to his words.

"Not every place can be London, I suppose," Violet said, agreeing with him. "But it is a mostly magical village, so it must have some charms. Mostly literal, I would wager."

His lips quirked a bit at her pun as they continued in the, most probably, correct direction. "Dumbledore said it's just off the square… Yes, Hangley Alley. And here's number three. Ladies first," he said, opening the garden gate for her.

"Thank you, my love," she grinned happily. Then, as they moved toward the house's front door, Sherlock saw her change, withdraw a bit. It wasn't terribly noticeable, but as Sherlock was the person who knew Violet best, and him being Sherlock, at that, he noticed. Violet pasted on a false smile, one that was far more falsely bright than her real one. She gave her hair a toss, throwing it over her shoulder with practiced ease. And she retreated into herself, putting on a persona that was someone else, entirely.

"Violet Evans, as I live and breathe." A large older man, or possibly an enchanted walrus in luxurious robes, waddled out the door, just as the couple arrived at it. "It's been far too long, my dear."

"Well, it's not my fault you've kept yourself sequestered in a school until just recently," she teased, a bright, happy, entirely false tone in her voice. "And I've been a bit busy since your retirement."

"So I've heard," Slughorn replied, turning his gaze to Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes, Violet's fiancé," he announced, hand out for the older man to shake.

"I've met your brother, of course, and I've heard so many good things about you," Slughorn said, then suddenly seemed to remember his manners. "Come in, come in out of this cold! I'll get tea."

He showed them to his lounge, which was decorated just as luxuriously as his robes. "I see you've kept in contact with your stars," Violet called, as he headed to the kitchen for some tea. She nodded meaningfully to the collection of signed posters and photographs covering one wall, and spilling over around the corner onto the next. From every frame, famous witches and wizards waved, smiled, and posed, a visual representation of those he'd "collected" throughout his tenure as Potions Professor at the only real school of magic in Britain.

Sherlock snorted at the man's arrogance, but managed to cut it off as the man himself walked back in. "Of course, I have, Violet. You know Barnabas Cuffe always takes my owls when I have something to say about what he's published. Sweet Gwenog Jones has tickets whenever I want to see the Harpies. And Cornelius is forever asking for my advice. And by Cornelius, of course, I mean-"

"Cornelius Fudge, our illustrious Minister of Magic," Sherlock supplied, earning a delighted smile from the other man.

"Of course! But you didn't come to talk about my old pupils. Of course not. You, Mr. Holmes, are rather famous, all on your own. I've been so looking forward to meeting you, ever since Miss Evans here told me all about her clever friend. Especially once she told me that you hail from the notable Holmes family," Slughorn gushed.

"She told me quite a bit about you, as well, Sir," Sherlock replied, equally as enthusiastic. Violet, however, knew that not only was his enthusiasm utterly false, but nearly everything she'd told him had been at least somewhat mocking.

The old man puffed up, making the buttons on his velvet smoking jacket strain rather ominously. "She did, did she? Well, Violet always was one of my very favorites. So very clever with her potions. I rarely saw her equal, until sweet Lily. And Severus, of course. But you Evans girls always had such creativity with your potions. Such flair! And you could have been top of your class, if you'd just pushed yourself a tiny bit more," he said, sounding just a touch scolding, though layered with teasing. "But, of course, you were far more interested in those boys than your schooling. And then you caught yourself a LeStrange. Not much higher available than that."

"Except a Holmes," Sherlock said, his voice suddenly cold.

Violet gently ran a calming hand down his arm. "I greatly prefer the Holmes to the LeStrange," she assured.

"O-of course," Slughorn spluttered, reeling some from Sherlock's abrupt change in mood.

"I thought you might like to see some photos of Harry, Professor," Violet said, changing the subject with alacrity. "He's living with us, you see, since Lily and James…"

"I'd love to!" The old teacher grasped at the new topic with desperation. "I'd love it more if you brought the boy to see me," he then hinted.

"Perhaps next time," she agreed, though both she and Sherlock planned on never seeing the man again, if at all possible. "But these will have to do for now."

Violet handed him the photos from her purse, then had to concentrate quite hard on not laughing. Harry was indeed in every one, but never the only one, and quite often, it was his back, his foot, or just his hair that was captured in the picture. And they were all, each and every one of them, developed the Muggle way, so none of them moved. Each one had been chosen with care, to give Slughorn just the barest glimpse of the boy, but enough that manners dictated he couldn't complain.

It was a rather clever plan, one Sherlock and Violet had come up with that morning. After all, there wasn't anyone more famous in all Wizarding Britain than Harry, and Slughorn craved knowing famous and well-connected people. And while they would never use Harry, in any way, they could use horribly shot photos to their advantage. Mrs. Hudson still hadn't gotten the knack of photography. Even if she did adore it.

"He- Well, he seems a lovely boy," Slughorn managed at last. "And it seems that he inherited James's skill on the broom."

"Sirius and Remus bought him his very own for Christmas," Violet replied, refraining from mentioning her own talent at flying, not to mention Lily's. After all, she had tried rather hard to keep it a secret while at school.

"I did see the reports of poor Sirius's trial in the Prophet, of course. It's a shame that it took that long for it to be resolved." Slughorn shook his head, looking at his crystalized pineapple rather morosely.

"Yes, a shame," Sherlock commented, clearly chafing at being forced to restrain his natural sarcasm. But it wouldn't do to upset Slughorn, not before they got what they needed.

"Sherlock's testimony was really the deciding factor," Violet said, trying to flatter her fiancé into a more patient temper. Judging by the slight uptick at the corner of his mouth, she gauged that she had succeeded.

"I read all about that!" Slughorn's chins wobbled with his excitement. "And several other of your cases, even some in the Muggle world. It's terribly fascinating how you manage to gather so much information from the tiniest details. Do share more!"

Since one of Sherlock's favorite pastimes was showing off, he hardly needed more encouragement. He talked for nearly half an hour, showcasing his own brilliance against the dull idiocy of the Aurors, or Yarders, as the case may be. He spoke of missing jewels returned, kidnapped children brought back to their families, unfaithful lovers exposed. And Slughorn soaked it up, loving every minute of it.

But it did have to end. Once Sherlock finished explaining just how he had ended an international crime ring, Violet spoke up again. "Professor, as lovely as it's been to simply catch up with you, we did come with a purpose."

He smiled, perhaps a bit sadly. "Young people never see me without one, my dear Violet. So what is it that an old man could do for you?"

Taking a deep breath, and accepting the supportive squeeze Sherlock gave her hand, she said, "We need to know just how many Horcruxes Tom Riddle may have made."

Instantly, the old man's face turned puce. "Dumbledore put you up to this, didn't he? I should have known the old fool wouldn't forget!"

"Sir, we need to know-"

With three words, Sherlock stopped both of them. "It's for Harry."

Aghast, Slughorn drooped further into his armchair. But Sherlock wasn't done. "It's to keep a small boy safe. A boy whose parents have already died protecting him. Those parents who you've indicated that you quite liked. Do you remember Lily Evans, sir? I never knew James, but I knew Lily nearly her entire life. I knew her love of life, and her thirst for knowledge, and her fierce determination to right the wrongs she saw in the world. I knew how intensely loyal she was to those she loved, and nothing typifies that than the fact that she courageously stepped between a madman and her son, who was his true target. And now, we need your help. We need some knowledge you have to protect that son. We all know that Riddle isn't gone for good. He'll be back, and the first in his way will be Harry. Will you help us protect Lily's son?"

Violet had never seen Slughorn so deflated. His face nearly the same color as his hair, he silently held his wand to his forehead and drew out one silvery memory. She quickly conjured a flask and handed it to him. "Don't think too harshly of me, once you've seen it," he whispered. "I was a foolish young man, and Riddle knew how to play me like a harp."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, giving his hand a pat. It wasn't a forgiving pat, or a judgmental one, either, but one that said she understood just what he was giving her. "We'll see ourselves out."

Violet and Sherlock were nearly to the door when the old teacher finally called out, "You'll let me know when it's done, won't you?"

"Of course, Professor," she promised with a small smile. And then, they were gone, leaving the old man alone, with nothing more than his photographs and memories. And regrets.


	27. Chapter 27

A quick trip to Mycroft's house (unannounced, of course) to make use of his Pensieve (unauthorized) gave Sherlock and Violet the disturbing answer they were looking for. "Seven," she muttered, looking rather ill.

He didn't look much better. "He planned to make seven Horcruxes," Sherlock sighed. "And we only know of three."

"Hopefully, our efforts this afternoon will find more," Violet said, rallying. "Now, let's grab a bite to eat before then. We need some comfort before our activities."

"You make seeing your closest female friend sound like a chore," he smirked, taking her arm and Apparating to an alley near their flat.

He led the way as she snorted in derision. "Yes, seeing my friend, whose husband I landed in prison and sister I personally killed. That's going to go over so well."

Sherlock grinned at her, opening the door to a little Italian place. "You'll just have to use all of your charms," he told her, then added in a whisper, directly against her ear, "of which you have many."

She simply raised an eyebrow, ignoring the shiver he'd caused.

"Sherlock!" a voice called, breaking their intense concentration on one another. "It's been ages!" They turned to see a large man, only slightly paunchy, hurrying their way. "But where's Dr. Watson?" he asked in confusion.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John and I are not a couple, Angelo. He's been married for over a year, and to a woman. This is my fiancée, Violet Evans. Violet, Angelo."

"Let me guess, you've saved him from prison," she said, holding her hand for the confused restaurateur to shake.

"Well, from life in prison, anyway," Sherlock confirmed. "A table for two, please, Angelo."

"But you and Dr. Watson always-" Angelo started, even as he showed them to a table, enough in the back to be away from prying eyes.

"Were nothing more than good friends," Sherlock insisted. "And I don't know how you managed to avoid the fact that he and Mary got married, not since he started up with his blog again."

"Aw, well, ya know me and those new-fangled things," Angelo said in good-natured self-deprecation. "Never can keep up with 'em."

Violet and Sherlock enjoyed a quiet lunch together, both trying to keep their minds off the hunt for the Horcruxes. "We do have a wedding to plan," she said, ignoring the third text that day from her grandmother. It was merely another well-intended demand, disguised as an offer, of course, for the wedding to be held at Greengrass Castle.

"We do," he agreed, seeming just as excited for the prospect as she was. "I do want to marry you, of course, but-"

"You could do without the fuss?" she finished for him with a smile.

He sighed. "Exactly. I know Mummy and Father won't care either way, but Mycroft will try to make it into an ordeal. And by the sound of your mobile," he added, quirking an eyebrow in the direction of the object, dinging once more, "your grandmother wants such a thing, as well."

"I know she's excited, happy that I'm marrying you, but I just don't want the big white wedding everyone's expecting of us," she said, dragging her fork through the sauce left on her plate.

"We'll figure something out," Sherlock said, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. She moved it, twisting so that their fingers intertwined.

They parted at the door. He headed to Marylebone Street, where the men had planned on meeting, as she headed for the nearest local Apparition point. She, after all, cared about the laws, or at least made the pretense of caring.

Popping into the Holmes country house, Violet greeted everyone with a kiss to the cheek. Harry and Rosie had to show off their artwork, as they had spent the morning painting. She made the appropriately encouraging sounds, exclaiming delight at each and every picture. And she didn't even feel the need to fake it all that much, as they both seemed to be promising artists. Though she did have to admit bias, at least the tiniest part.

Rosie didn't want to say goodbye to her Ree, crying and using her magic to keep him with her. It took much bribery and coercion to finally get her to agree to let go. "I see you tomorrow, Rosemud," Harry promised, reminding his aunt of the playdate arranged with the Longbottoms.

After a prolonged goodbye, Violet collected Harry into her arms and turned on her heel. They reappeared on a snowy country lane, in front of an impressive set of gates, leading to an even more impressive mansion.

"This Aunt Cissa's house?" Harry asked, eyes wide in amazement.

"Yes, my darling, this is Aunt Cissa's house," Violet answered. "And you'll get to meet her and Draco."

"Raco," he attempted, wrinkling his nose at the unfamiliar word.

Violet walked them through the gates, which opened soundlessly for them. "Draco," she corrected patiently. "There's a D sound in front." After all, she knew Draco well, knew he would probably not react well to seeing Harry with her, and if Harry said his name wrong, that just might make things worse.

"D-draco," Harry tried again.

"Wonderful, my darling!" She gushed, hugging him tightly. He laughed and hugged her back.

At the door, a tiny house elf waited for them. "Welcomes, Missy Violet," Dobby squeaked. "Mistress and Master Draco are in the parlor."

"Thank you, Dobby," she smiled at him, finally setting Harry down. She took his hand and headed to the parlor, but Dobby's gasp stopped her.

The tiny creature stared at Harry's forehead, pointed at the scar. "You's-"

A quick, violent shake of the head from Violet stopped him. He clearly wanted to continue, but years of harsh training from Lucius had ingrained in him that obeying a human came before any of his own wants or wishes. He gulped, then bowed lowly, almost low enough for his pencil-thin nose to brush the ground.

A tiny rush of guilt flowed through Violet, but she brushed it off. After all, she would have done the same had Dobby been human, and Harry's happiness was first in her books, anyway. She would burn down the world to make Harry safe and happy.

In the parlor, Narcissa sat expectantly, back perfectly straight, nary a hair out of place. Draco fidgeted at her side, then began to run to Violet the moment he saw her. But the sight of another little boy halted him, confusion apparent on his face.

"Auntie Vi?" Draco asked plaintively.

Violet smiled widely. "Hello, dearest."

Her usual term of endearment for him was all it took to convince him. He barreled the rest of the way to her, throwing his arms around her knees. She laughed and bent to pick him up, only pausing to squeeze Harry's hand reassuringly once before letting go.

"You've been so long," Draco said, once he pulled himself back slightly. "I misseded you."

"I've missed you, too, dearest, but there were things that I couldn't put off, and I had to go get Harry," Violet explained patiently.

At her words, the little boy looked to the other. Each assessed one another, all but glaring at their perceived rival. "Who's he?" Draco finally asked.

"This is Harry, my other godson," she answered, kneeling rather gracefully, considering she was in heels, to bring the boys closer together. "Harry's mum and father died, so now he's living with me, just like you would if anything, Merlin forbid, ever happened to your mum."

"Hi, Draco," Harry said softly, determined to be a good boy for his Auntie.

Draco regarded him coldly. "So he's why you haven't come see me?"

Violet heard the quaver in his voice, the one he always tried so hard to hide. She inwardly cursed Lucius for his horrible treatment of the boy. "Yes, dearest, I've had to help Harry. And your cousin, Sirius, needed my help, as well. But you got my Christmas present, didn't you?"

He perked up at that. "I loved it, Auntie Vi! Thank you!" He threw his chubby arms around her neck, squeezing tightly. "I love Cerbus!"

"Draco, darling, why don't you go show Cerberus to Harry," Narcissa suggested smoothly. "But remember, crups don't belong anywhere but the playrooms."

"Yes, Mum," he said, wiggling from Violet's arms. "C'mon, Harry." He waved imperiously at the other boy, who looked to Violet in confusion.

"Go with Draco, darling," she encouraged, smiling. "He's got a crup. It's like a puppy."

His eyes lit up at that, and he followed the other boy far more eagerly then.

It wasn't until the door shut behind the boys, leaving them in a magically soundproof room, that either woman spoke. "What on earth are you doing here, Violet?" Narcissa's voice was filled with venom, causing the slightest twinge in Violet's heart.

"We both know that if you hadn't wanted me here, I wouldn't have made it past the gates, Cissa," she said, hiding her hurt behind flippant words. She settled into a chair, far more casually than the formal setting called for. After all, she knew Narcissa hadn't been the one to design the room. "And besides, it's been far too long since I've seen my godson. This one, I mean."

"And who's fault is that?" Narcissa's response was the crack of a whip, sharp and biting. "We haven't heard from you in months. Not since you had my husband arrested and murdered my sister."

"Bella was in self-defense, and it's not like either of you actually miss Lucius," Violet said dismissively.

"You're the reason Bella attacked you!" Narcissa's voice was steadily getting higher in both pitch and volume.

"Because she was attacking someone else!" Violet screamed, finally giving in to the fight that Narcissa had been picking, from the very moment she'd walked into the parlor. "She was trying to kill someone else, someone who has a small boy just the same age as Draco! And for what? She thought, for some insane reason, that the Longbottoms might know where Voldemort was! She was desperate for her beloved Lord, twisted beyond all reason in her mad obsession with him. She wasn't the loving sister you grew up with, Cissa," she added softly. "That girl you knew was gone long ago, broken and changed by a loveless marriage and a charismatic megalomaniac. She didn't care for anything other than him, Cissa. I know you saw it, because I saw your face every time she spurned you for some scrap of attention from him."

Narcissa had turned from her friend, wrapping her arms around herself. "We didn't hear from you for months. I had no idea if you were dead or alive. No visits, not even a bloody note. And then, I see your photograph on the front page of the bloody Prophet, helping my cousin, no less! And there's talk of your engagement, which I had no idea of, and your taking over the guardianship of Harry, which I would have thought you would have at least told me about. And then there's the rumors of you visiting Diagon Alley with a Muggle couple and Alice Longbottom and her son just after Christmas, while all we got was a present for Draco. Once again, no note, other than to say Happy Christmas. You've built this brand-new life for yourself, Violet Evans, so what in Merlin's name could you possibly need from me? I mean, you clearly need something, otherwise you wouldn't have bothered coming here otherwise."

Violet's heart stopped for a moment, and her stomach dropped to her feet, knowing that was exactly why she was there. "I didn't think you would want to see me," she answered finally, so softly that she could hardly hear herself.

But Narcissa still heard her. "Draco's been asking for you, nearly daily. He thinks he's done something bad, so bad you don't want to see him anymore." Violet's heart broke. "And he's still confused as to where his father is, though I don't think he cares much, just is curious. And I still don't know what to tell him."

"Would it help if I said I was sorry? That I never meant to hurt you, Cissa, I just didn't know what to say, so I kept myself away. I wanted to give you time, and then it was simply easier to leave you be. I told myself that you wouldn't want to see me, given what all I had done to your family."

"Oh, please, you've been my family far more than either Bella or Lucius," Cissa said, rolling her eyes, throwing herself into the chair across from Violet. "You know I only married Lucius to keep Mother and Father happy, after…"

After Andromeda married a Muggleborn, Violet filled in silently. "You could be free of him, Cissa. You don't have to keep his name."

Cissa looked uncertain, apprehensive. "I can't. It's too… Muggle. I'd never be accepted in Society-"

"You don't even like Society!" Violet interrupted exasperatedly. "And since Lucius's involvement with the Death Eaters came out, I can't believe that you've received many invitations."

Cissa shrugged, unwilling to agree completely. "But I can't do that to Draco," she said smally. "I can't keep him from that, from everything that comes from the Malfoy name. And besides, where would we go? Mother and Father are both dead, with their house burned in the riots. I would have utterly nothing if I divorced Lucius, and I can't do that to Draco."

"You're utterly ridiculous," Violet said, causing a small glare from her friend. "You know Draco is the last Malfoy, so if you divorced Lucius, everything would revert to your son. And who would manage it for him until his majority?"

Slow understanding dawned over Cissa's face, until she dropped her head to her hands. "I can't believe I didn't think of that," she groaned. "I'm so stupid!"

"No, you just haven't had your voice of reason with you for some months, which I will continue to apologize for," Violet said humbly. "But now that I'm back, we can plan this out."

The women talked for hours, planning everything to the last detail, just as they always had. "I still think you should talk with Sirius, Cissa," Violet finally told her. "He always was your favorite relative, until he started Hogwarts."

"He still was after that, I just couldn't show it," she admitted. "But do you really think he'll help me?"

"It might take some groveling, but I'm sure you can get him to come round. I know that he was planning on visiting Dromeda soon," she said carefully.

Instantly, Cissa closed off. "I'm not speaking with her," she spat.

"Why not?" Violet asked, throwing her arms in the air with exasperation. "It's not like you even care that she married Tonks. I clearly remember the hours we spent in the library, searching through countless genealogy books, trying to find some way to fake Ted Tonks onto some halfway respectable family line, so that can't possibly be it."

Cissa was silent for so long, Violet didn't think she was going to respond. Until, "She left me! With them!" came flying out of her mouth. "She left me with Mother and Father, and a cold, twisted Bella, and horrible Aunt Walburga! She left me! And I can't forgive her for that."


	28. Chapter 28

Knowing that nothing was going to change Cissa's mind, at least not yet, Violet changed the subject. "You were right, earlier, I mean. I did come to see you because I need your help. Obviously, I wanted to see you and Draco, of course, but I also need your help."

"I knew that," came Cissa's droll response. "What do you need?"

"To keep Harry safe from Voldemort."

Cissa stiffened at the name, but otherwise didn't visibly react. "I'm staying out of all that, Vi. I have to, for Draco. I won't let anyone use him like Lucius allowed himself to be."

Violet reached for her friend's hand. "I'm trying to stop him, forever. You and I both know he's coming back, and freeing his loyal Death Eaters in Azkaban will be one of the first things he does. And Lucius will be back for Draco. Help me. This is the only way to protect Draco."

Cissa seemed to be wrestling with herself, before she capitulated. "Tell me everything," she ordered. "If I'm going to be involved, I want to know everything."

Another two hours were spent filling Cissa in on the last seven months of Violet's life, emphasizing the hunt for the Horcruxes. Still, quite a bit was shared about happy little moments with Harry and Sherlock, enough to balance the grim ones.

"Well, I must say I am glad you finally noticed that you love Sherlock," Cissa quipped. "It's only been obvious to me since the day I met you, going on and on about your genius best friend."

"You're ridiculous," Violet shot back.

Cissa simply grinned back at her, before growing somber again. "I'm not sure what I'd be looking for in all of Lucius's things, but I'll try. There are a few of the more well-hidden places that the Aurors didn't find, so I can start there."

"I can help," Violet offered immediately. "Harry has a playdate with Neville Longbottom tomorrow, so I can come, if you'd like me to, that is."

Cissa rolled her eyes. "If you think I'm going to be doing any of this without you, you're a bigger idiot than I knew. Let's go check on our boys."

The two women walked to the playroom, both half fearing what they might find. But, the boys were happily playing together, with Cerberus, the crup, running in circles around them. "Mummy, Harry can play tomorrow?" Draco asked, his pleading eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, dearest, but Harry already has plans for tomorrow," Cissa said, crouching down to her son's level.

"But perhaps Draco can join in those plans," Violet quickly added, hugging her nephew. "Would you like that, boys?"

Both boys cheered, but Cissa looked apprehensive. "I'm not sure… After all, it is rather rude to invite oneself to another's house."

"I'll speak with Alice, and if it's a problem, we can plan something else in a few days," Violet countered stubbornly.

Cissa still didn't look pleased with the idea, but at the look of happiness on her son's face, she relented. After all, it was good for him to get to know other children his age. Children other than those of his father's… acquaintances.

Violet sent a quick text to Alice, who promptly responded with "Of course!" Violet showed her friend the screen, smirking. "And she won't hold his father's actions against Draco, or your sister's against you," she promised lowly.

Cissa's relief was nearly palpable.

After a few more minutes of playing with the children, Violet's mobile chirped, a text from Sherlock. "Alright, my darling, Lock is home, and Sirius and Remus came with him. They even brought dinner, so I think it's time to say goodbye for the day," Violet told Harry.

He pouted for a moment, but the thought of seeing three of his favorite adults soothed him. He hugged Draco, with a promise of fun the next day, and then turned to Cissa. "Bye, Aunt Cissa," he said, wrapping his little arms around her, as well.

"Aunt Cissa?" she asked, even while hugging the boy back, somewhat out of reflex.

"Of course," Violet smirked. "You're the closest thing I have to a sister left, after all."

"Did I do bad?" Harry asked, trying to pull out of Cissa's arms.

But she simply hugged him more. "Of course not, darling. You can call me Aunt Cissa all you want."

That satisfied the boy, and he snuggled into her arms more. Violet pretended not to notice the glossy sheen Cissa's eyes had taken. She hugged Draco, instead.

Violet and Harry left Malfoy Manor and Apparated back to Baker Street. The lovely smell of curry greeted them, as did three rather exhausted looking men. After Sherlock's violent shake of the head, Violet encouraged Harry to tell his uncles all about his day. Playing with Rosie at Gran's took the whole meal, and meeting Draco held them all captive for the rest of the evening. He was just telling them about Cerberus when he yawned, three times in a minute.

"Alright, young man," Sherlock said, affecting a stern glare. "It's past your bedtime."

Harry yawned. "But I'm not sleepy, Lock."

Sherlock grinned and herded the boy to the bathroom. "Of course, you're not."

After the arduous task of brushing little teeth, Harry came out for goodnight hugs. He was clearly dragging, worn out by so much playing that he nearly fell asleep on Violet's lap which he crawled into for cuddles. Sherlock simply pulled him into his arms and took him upstairs.

While they waited for Sherlock to return, Violet told Sirius about Cissa and Draco. "She really would like to see you," she assured.

Sirius sighed. "I have missed my cousin. Maybe I'll send her an owl, see when I can visit. I need to see Dromeda, too. She visited me in St. Mungo's."

"I wouldn't say anything about Dromeda to Cissa," Violet warned. "She's not… quite ready for that."

"Because Andromeda married a Muggle?" Remus asked, a bit of heat in his voice.

Surprisingly, Sirius was the one to answer. "Cissa never cared about that. She pretended to, so our parents wouldn't find out, but she didn't care. No, Dromeda left her, same as Bella, same as Grandfather. Same as me."

"She doesn't blame you, Sirius," Violet said, ignoring Remus's confusion. "You were still a child, and you had to do what was best for you. She knows that. But she misses you."

"Then I'll go visit her," he promised.

"So, everything's all patched up with Cissa?" Sherlock asked, coming back into the room.

Violet tipped her face toward his for a kiss before answering. "It may have taken some screaming at one another, but we got it settled. I'm going tomorrow to help her look for whatever Riddle may have given Lucius."

"I'll go with you," Sherlock instantly said. "After all, it's been a while since I've seen Cissa."

"That would be lovely!" Violet beamed. "It is a rather large house, so it could take ages to search everywhere. You boys could come along, as well."

"Tomorrow's the full moon, so I'll bow out," Remus said, smiling darkly.

"I've got meetings with the goblins all morning, and then I'm helping Moony," Sirius also declined. "But after that, if you still haven't found it-"

"I'm sure we'll find it," Sherlock was quick to reply. "After all, it is what I do."

Violet looked at her fiancé sharply, but he didn't reveal anything. Too tired and drained to worry about it further, she simply shook her head. "Tell me about your afternoon."

Instead of telling her, Sherlock simply opened his mind to her. It had been an exhausting day, and the sooner it was over, the better.

Violet saw a disgusting hovel so overgrown, one could hardly see it. John stepped into a concealed viper's nest right at the property line, but thanks to Sherlock's quick reflexes, no one was bitten. The snakes were all taken care of, with John gleefully shooting each one, even those the wizards had already killed. Another nest was in front of the door, but the noise from the first roused them before the men got to them. Remus simply set them all on fire, not bothering to deal with them individually this time. A boggart lay just behind the door, but with four victims to chose from, it quickly became confused, even before Sirius finished it with an almost lazy Riddikulus.

Each man suddenly started for the door, intent on leaving. But the sight of the dead snakes stopped Sherlock, causing him to shake his head in frustration. "It's a confusion spell," he told the others. "Concentrate on what we're here for."

"What are we here for?" Sirius asked, looking utterly befuddled.

"Little Hangleton," John remembered. "Riddle. The Horcrux."

Sirius and Remus, now remembering as well, nodded. "Concentrate on the Horcrux," Sherlock instructed, and they all went back in.

Violet could tell that Sherlock had, at this point, reinforced his mental walls, shoring them up against any further mental assault. From the looks of things, both Remus and Sirius were doing their best to do so, as well, but poor John had no such magic to help with it. Instead, he simply muttered, "Horcrux. Horcrux. Horcrux," over and over, focusing on what he was there for.

And it seemed to work. Once past the first several feet into the shack, each man relaxed minutely, then visibly pulled themselves up again. It wasn't exactly the place to relax, after all, and each needed to be entirely aware of their surroundings.

After several minutes of searching the dusty, mouldy interior, Sherlock exclaimed, "John!" Just as he would have, had they been on one of their cases. And it was technically a case, one with very personal results at stake.

John was at his side in an instant, with Sirius and Remus just as quick. Sherlock was on his knees, ripping the floorboards apart with his magic. Underneath was a golden box, and Sherlock pulled it out. He opened it to show a gold ring set with a black stone.

Sherlock started to reach for the ring, as did Sirius and Remus, but John, ever the sensible one, slammed the box shut. "Oh, no, you don't," he snapped. "I don't know much about magic, but I'm sure there's some sort of spell or curse or something horrible on it. Especially given the way you three all reached for it."

The other three seemed startled, but each shook themselves out of the stupor they'd fallen into. "That was it, yeah?" John asked. "The ring was the Horcrux?"

"I believe so, yes," Sherlock answered, looking at the rest of the building in mingled disgust and fascination. "But we should continue looking, just to make sure."

After more than an hour of each man going over every square inch of the place, they called it quits. After a quick trip to Mycroft's house, this time announced, to place the ring in the specially prepared vault, and several cleaning charms later, they went their separate ways. John headed home, where Cecelia would drop Rosie, and the other three headed to Baker Street. Much to Sherlock's consternation.

Violet brought herself back into her own head with a little shake. "And there were a great bloody lot of snakes," Sirius said with a shudder, obviously continuing on with the story.

"Far too many snakes," Remus agreed.

"You boys don't need to keep going. I saw the whole thing in Sherlock's head," Violet told them with a grin. "But I do agree that there was an excessive amount of snakes. Even for a Slytherin."

"Oh." Sirius seemed a bit disappointed, but rallied quickly. "But that's two we've found. How many could there be?"

"Possibly seven, according to Slughorn," Sherlock answered shortly. He got up to pace, though restricting his movement to directly behind Violet's chair.

"Your father is looking into how to destroy them? And get the one out of Harry?" Violet asked him, heart squeezing at the thought of something so dangerous lurking inside her sweet boy.

"Yes. Basilisk venom can destroy them, but that's not something particularly easy to come by," Sherlock stated. "Potentially problematic."

Remus grinned, despite the subject at hand. "Obtaining basilisk venom is only potentially problematic?"

"Anything can be bought, if you're willing to pay the price. And besides, if it really came down to it, we could simply hatch one, take its venom, and kill it," Sherlock stated, obviously annoyed with having to explain himself. "Fiendfyre is another way, an easier way."

"Easier?" Sirius looked at Sherlock as though he'd said he intended to begin belly dancing, or some other equally disturbing notion. "How could Fiendfyre be an easier way? It can't be controlled-"

"Only by those who don't know what they're doing," Sherlock snapped.

"And I suppose you do?"

Sirius's scoffing did nothing to help Sherlock's already pricked temper. Violet knew she needed to step in before things were said that could not be taken back. "It's late, gentlemen, and we've all had very long, very trying days. Thank you for your help this afternoon, and Remus, if you need anything after… after tomorrow night, please let me know. I'm rather a dab hand at potions, and I could make you a pain potion, if nothing else."

"Thank you, Violet," he said, pulling his friend up as he stood. "I'll let you know. And thank you, Sherlock, for allowing us to come today. Have a good night."

"Good night, Violet," Sirius said, kissing her cheek and ignoring Sherlock altogether, who was now scratching away at his violin in a most obnoxious manner.

Violet waited until she heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close before turning to her fiancé. "Sherlock, what in Merlin's name was that? They were both trying to help-"

"Help? They're bloody nuisances!" he shouted. "Lupin slightly less, but still. They talk too much, never letting me think. And Black, ha! The man couldn't be more in love with you if he tried!"


	29. Chapter 29

Understanding flooded Violet, and she laughed. "Are you jealous, Sherlock?"

"Of Black? Don't be ridiculous," he spat, turning back to his violin.

"You are," she said, utterly confused. "Why- How are you jealous of Sirius?"

Sherlock whirled around, using his bow to point at her. "Who doesn't simply adore Black, hm? Honestly, it's as if the world is simply falling over itself to fawn over him. 'Oh, poor Sirius, he's had such a hard life.' Never mind that other people have had hard lives."

"Sirius spent three years in Azkaban," she reminded angrily. "Three years for a crime he didn't commit."

"Yes, and I spent two years in the seedy underbelly of Europe's organized crime. Everyone's got a sob story," he spat, "but that doesn't give him the right to flirt with another man's fiancée."

Violet sighed. "He wasn't flirting-"

"He's in love with you, Violet. Of course, he's flirting with you."

She stood and walked to him, pushing lightly on the bow until he lowered it. Holding her left hand up, she said, "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, there is only one ring on my hand, and it's from you. Just because someone else happens to fancy me doesn't mean I'll automatically fall at their feet. I'm in love with you, you ridiculous man. I can't control what others feel, but you never have to worry about how I feel. I love you, and I always will."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, reading the truth in her eyes, before dropping his head. "I'm sorry, Vi. I've never been very good with emotions."

"I know this, and I love you anyway," she teased gently, cupping his face to get him to look at her. "And while Sirius is attractive, I still see him as the little boy he was when we first met, so you have no need to worry there."

Sherlock kissed her fiercely, and Violet allowed herself to sink into his embrace. "Marry me," he said, pulling back to look at her with a blazing, almost aggressive light in his eyes.

"I already said I would. That's what the ring means," she laughed.

But he shook his head. "No, marry me now. No big wedding, no more waiting. I want you to be my wife now."

Stunned, Violet stared at him. "Well, there's a license-"

"Mycroft will take care of it."

"Our friends, family-"

"They'll show up if we tell them where and when," he countered. "This isn't about anyone other than you and me. Neither of us want a big wedding, but if we wait any longer, between Mycroft and your grandmother, we'll be pushed into it. Let's just-"

"Yes," Violet cut him off, beaming. "Yes, let's do it."

Sherlock kissed her again, grinning this time.

"We can do it on New Year's Eve, simply tell everyone we're having a party. Everyone will be looking smart for it. It's perfect, Sherlock."

"We'll have to tell Mycroft to take care of the license, but otherwise, it'll be a complete surprise. And in three days, you'll be my wife."

"Violet Holmes does have a nice ring to it," she giggled, utterly delighted with the idea. "Oh, Sherlock, I love you."

They decided to tell only John and Cissa, as they each needed someone to stand up with them. But they would tell no one else.

…

It was hard work, not spilling the beans over the next few days, but they managed it. Violet and Sherlock told their family and friends that they wanted to celebrate the new year, their first as a family, and they couldn't possibly do it without those they loved. Well, Violet said that. Sherlock's invitations tended to be along the lines of "We're having a party. Come." But each was accepted happily.

John accepted Sherlock's gruff request to "return the favor", after a few shocked moments of silence. Apparently, it was a common theme in their relationship. Cissa, however, took Violet's invitation with a squeal and a laugh, hugging her and saying, "I've only been waiting for this for eighteen years."

Violet called on Blimey to clean the flat, and help Mrs. Hudson with the cooking. He was utterly beside himself with the thought that his mistress needed him again and wanted to prove himself to her. He did such a good job that Violet almost didn't recognize the flat once she and Sherlock returned home from a long, fruitless day of searching Malfoy Manor. "Blimey, you are a gem," she breathed, looking around in awe.

Sherlock was less pleased. "It's far too neat," he grumped, throwing his scarf at, but missing, the coat tree.

"It's only for two more days," Violet laughed, kissing his cheek. "After the new year, you can mess it up all you like."

He still wasn't happy, but he didn't complain anymore.

"Greg is coming, isn't he?" she asked, looking through the take away menus. "I'm thinking Thai for dinner."

"We had curry just last night. Italian?" he countered. "And yes, Lestrade is coming, with Molly. Your grandmother?"

"Yes, though she warned she won't stay the whole night. She'll take Uncle Daniel's girls home, probably Susan, as well. We had Italian yesterday. There's a new Mexican place around the corner."

"Might as well. Harry likes it."

…

The morning of New Year's Eve, Violet and Sherlock sat Harry down after breakfast for a talk. "Harry, darling, you know how we're having a party tonight?" Violet began.

"Tha's why th' flat is so clean!" he reminded.

"That's right, Harry. Now, Auntie Vi and I have a secret to share with you," Sherlock said, crouching down to look the boy in the eye. The boy who was currently wiggling with unrestrained excitement.

"I c'n keep a secret, Lock!" he promised.

"We know, love, that's why you get to hear it," Violet told him, hugging him to her side. "Tonight, Lock and I are going to get married, while everyone is here."

Harry's eyes grew three sizes behind his little glasses. "You're gettin' married! Then we c'n be a real fam'ly!"

"Absolutely," Sherlock assured, moving to hug both of them.

The rest of the day was spent trying to keep Harry occupied and finish getting everything ready for the night. Harry got a rather long nap in the late afternoon, helped by a slip of sleeping potion, while Violet took a long bath. "Every bride deserves some extra pampering on her wedding day," she teased Sherlock, before closing the bathroom door in his face.

Sherlock, in his defense, kept Harry the rest of the afternoon, playing in the boy's room and then getting both of them ready. That left their room for Violet. She took her time, making sure that each hair, every brushstroke was exactly as she wanted it. After all, this was the wedding that truly mattered.

At half seven, after hearing her boys come down the stairs, Violet took a deep breath, straightened her long, Holmes sapphire gown one more time, and walked through the door. The sight that greeted her nearly took her breath away. Both were in smart tuxes, while Sherlock tied the little bow tie around Harry's neck. He looked over at her, already smiling, but he froze upon seeing her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, uncharacteristically unsure after he stared at her for several moments.

"You look-" Sherlock started, rising upright.

"You look beau'ful, Auntie Vi!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"Absolutely beautiful," Sherlock agreed, finally snapping out of his reverie. He crossed the room in three long strides to kiss her soundly. "But I thought the groom wasn't supposed to see the bride until the ceremony?" he whispered to her cheekily.

"I think it's a bit late for that now," she laughed. "Now, let me look at my boys. Oh, you're both so handsome!"

"Yoo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson called, her customary greeting the only warning they got before her arrival. "I've got the food all ready. Is it alright for Blimey to bring it up yet?"

Blimey was still bringing up the food when the Watsons arrived. "That's Blimey?" John asked, looking mildly disturbed.

Violet only laughed. "Now you see why he's named that."

But Blimey was finished shortly after, and not a moment too soon. Molly and Greg, the only two Muggles with no knowledge of magic, arrived just as he snapped his fingers to Apparate back to Greengrass Castle. And then the Greengrass contingent arrived, marking a steady stream of guests.

Violet was rather impressed with her family's ingenuity at hiding their wands. Grandmama had hers in her hair, securing her bun. Auntie Amelia and Aunt Helene had made them part of their clutches, while the uncles probably had theirs in holsters around their legs, concealed by their trousers. And they all did an admirable job at mingling with the Muggles. The only mentions of magic were done by the children, and easily written off as childish imagination.

Mycroft and Anthea were the last to arrive, at half eleven. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't we?" Violet hissed as she accepted a kiss on the cheek.

"There was an emergency," Mycroft answered. "And we're here when it counts, are we not?"

She glared, but he simply smirked.

With ten minutes left in the year, Sherlock stood and tapped his glass. "We'd like to thank you lot for coming tonight, especially with such a short notice. But we didn't invite you here just for a party." He reached for Violet's hand, bringing her closer to him. "We've invited you for our wedding."

There were several gasps of surprise, with several cheerful exclamations. "If you'd all take a seat, we'll get started," Mycroft announced, his pomposity nearly overbearing. But everyone did as requested, anyway, settling into the seats that had already been arranged to face the fireplace.

John stood to one side of Sherlock, while Cissa bookended Violet. Little Harry stood in the middle, holding both of his favorite adults' hands. He couldn't quite hold still, though that was to be expected of a four-year-old. "I think we can dispense with the normal formalities," Mycroft began, with a rather pleased-with-himself smile. "Do you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Sherlock turned to Violet, well, turned more toward her. He'd already been facing her more than Mycroft, completely without thought. He took her hand, kissing it before saying "I do," with eyes sparkling with emotion.

"Do you, Violet Isabelle Evans, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," she said, squeezing his hand with her words.

"Sherlock, your vows."

"Violet Isabelle Evans, I have loved you my entire life. I have lived without you in my life, and I never want to experience the hell that brings. You are the light. You are my light, my happiness, and my biggest adventure. With this ring," he took the ring from John and slipped it on Violet's finger, "I vow to love you with the heart that's always been yours. I vow to do everything in my power to love you and Harry, and to keep you safe. My life is yours."

There weren't many dry eyes as Mycroft turned to Violet. "Your vows."

She smiled at Sherlock. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I have loved you from the very first time I saw you, as tiny little ones. You've been my safe haven throughout my life, even those times you weren't physically in my life. We've grown up together, and then apart, but life always has brought us back together, and I never want to be apart again. With this ring," she said, sliding the ring Cissa handed her onto Sherlock's long finger, "I vow to love and protect, cherish and fight for and with you for the rest of my life. I am yours, as you are mine."

"With the power vested in me by the British Crown, I pronounce you man and wife," Mycroft stated. "You may now-"

But Sherlock had never waited for his brother's say so, and his wedding was no different. He pulled Violet into his arms, kissing her passionately, just as the fireworks began outside.


	30. Chapter 30

The couple were swarmed by their friends and family, with well-wishes and congratulations happily shouted over one another. Harry was mildly squished in the crush for a short time, but he didn't mind. His favorite people were married now, and they could be a real family.

"You could have married in the Sun Room," Grandmama Greengrass said, eyebrow arched sternly over delight dancing in her eyes.

"We have a few Muggles invited," Violet replied lowly, hugging the elderly witch. "But I do hope you're happy for me, anyway."

"My dear girl, I could only be happier today if your mother and father were here for you," Madame Greengrass told her, squeezing her hands. "And possibly if you were wearing the tiara."

Violet's burst of laughter instantly drew Sherlock's gaze from across the room, where he'd been unwillingly pulled to speak with his mother and Mrs. Hudson. "He really does love her, doesn't he?" Molly sighed to Mary.

"He does," Mary agreed. "They've been in love their whole lives, I suspect, just too stubborn to admit it."

"That sounds about right. But I'm happy for them," Molly said. Then, at Mary's slightly accusing eyebrow raise, she hurried to continue. "I am! I'm over my silly crush on him. And he deserves to be happy after all this time."

"They both do," John said, slipping his arm around his wife. "Now, maybe he'll have someone else to run about town solving crimes with."

"Oh no, that's your thing with him," Violet cut in, having heard his wishes. "I would never want to come between the two of you," she added, eyes twinkling merrily.

Soon enough, it was time for the newlyweds to leave. "Harry will be just fine with me and Draco," Cissa assured, for the fourth time since suggesting it, three days ago. "The boys will have time to get to know each other better. I've invited Sirius over, anyway. He's going to help with the boys, and with our scavenger hunt. Perhaps Remus could come, as well."

Violet could see the interested gleam in her friend's eyes. "You do know he's a-"

Cissa cut her off knowingly. "Yes, darling, I do. After all, there's not terribly many things that will leave scars like those on his arm."

"And you trust him with Draco?" Violet hated herself a little for still harboring that ingrained prejudice. She was working on it, really, but she hadn't quite managed to dispense with it just yet. Not completely.

"From what I can see, he's better with children than Draco's father ever was, and as long as it's not a full moon, that particular affliction won't be flaring up, so yes, I trust him around Draco. And I already know you trust him with Harry, even if you haven't fully realized it yet. Otherwise, you wouldn't let him near your little ray of sunshine," Cissa said, smiling gently. "And he is rather attractive, for a younger man."

Violet laughed once more at her friend's ridiculousness, but most especially because Cissa was feeling playful once more. It seemed that both of their lives were changing, and for the far better.

"Mrs. Holmes, I do believe it's time for us to leave." Sherlock's deep voice pulled Violet's attention immediately, and put a soft smile on her lips.

"Why, yes, it is, Mr. Holmes," she replied, going to his side. His smile grew so wide, it crinkled his eyes, and she adored the sight.

They endured the goodbyes of their party, with plenty of kisses for Harry, and a few for the other children, as well. Then, with John keeping Greg and Molly upstairs, the couple made their escape. "Hold onto me," Sherlock whispered, clinging to his wife with a mischievous grin. She barely had time to take a breath in and close her eyes before he spun on the spot.

When she opened them after landing, she gasped. "Sherlock, you didn't."

"It seemed fitting," he said, torn between pleased pride and anxious worry.

Violet gazed at the small cottage, the exact one on the sea where they had spent plenty of holidays growing up. "You are brilliant," she breathed, turning to kiss her husband fiercely.

Once inside, they noticed, dimly, that nothing had changed in the span of twenty years since they'd last been. Mostly, they were reveling in being together, sharing slow kisses, getting to know one another in a whole new way.

…

Sunlight softly woke Violet, and she snuggled further into Sherlock's arms. "Good morning, wife," he said softly, lovingly.

"Good morning, husband," she replied, kissing the underside of his jaw.

"I've waited my whole life to earn the right to call you that," Sherlock said happily.

"And I've been waiting my whole life to hear it from you."

They lay in bed, simply enjoying one another's company. Sherlock, in particular, found the newly placed rings on Violet's hand to be fascinating. "The wedding band is charmed," he finally told her.

She looked up at him. "I could tell there was some sort of charm on it, besides the usual."

"It's an old Holmes tradition," he began to explain. "It's a variation on the Protean charm, linking your ring with mine. And as long as we're both wearing them, either of us can Apparate to the other's side, regardless of any anti-Apparition jinxes or any other warding."

A pleased smile grew on Violet's lips. "I like that. That way, if something goes wrong on one of your cases, I can still come and bail you out."

"And what about your enemies, Mrs. Holmes?" Sherlock asked, shifting quickly so he was holding himself above her.

"I can handle them, husband," she quipped, grinning unabashedly up at him.

"But can you handle me?" he growled, kissing the hollow of her throat as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I've been handling you since you were born."

…

The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Holmes spent three days in the seaside cottage, allowing themselves those days to spend entirely focused on each other. And, as Violet discovered, having Sherlock Holmes entirely focused on her was a rather intoxicating sensation.

But, reality outside of their little bubble continued, and their reprieve was at an end. They had a little boy to protect, after all. "Cissa thinks they might have found the horcrux," Violet said, reading her text while Sherlock finished dressing. "At least, they've found an old diary with Riddle's name on it, and she and Remus can hardly stand to be in the same room as it without the vacuum charm."

"They are keeping it away from Harry?" he asked, at once both concerned and condescending. "And Draco?"

"Of course, darling. They've actually taken it to Mycroft's, with the others."

"At least he's good for something, I suppose. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Let's go home."


	31. Chapter 31

Apparating directly into Malfoy Manor, Sherlock and Violet were greeted by two tiny, excited blurs attacking them. Harry and Draco exploded into explanations of all they had done the past three days, while Cissa, Sirius, and Remus looked on in affectionate amusement. There were snowy broom rides, and wrestles with Padfoot and Cerberus, and snow angels, and more. "An' Uncle Moo made snowballs chase Pa-foot!" Harry finished, giggling at the memory.

"Well, I am so very glad you had such fun!" Violet gushed, unable to hold back her happiness at seeing the boys getting along so well. But before she could say anything further, Sherlock's phone dinged, signaling a text. And when he read it, Violet knew the boys didn't need to hear what would be discussed next. "Why don't you go and say goodbye to Cerberus? We'll wait for you here, boys."

Neither boy complained at getting to spend more time together, so they raced one another to the playroom. Once out of earshot, Cissa asked pointedly, "What was that about?" After all, it was her home, and her son was one who'd just been sent away.

"Dumbledore sent a note around just now," Sherlock answered. "Mrs. Hudson took a picture of it for us. He wants us to go to Hogwarts to discuss what we've found so far. And he requested that we bring Harry, as Professor McGonagall and a Hagrid want to see him again."

"More like he wants an excuse to try to bring the whole situation back under his control," Remus muttered angrily.

"So, we'll all go," Cissa declared, sly smile creeping onto her face. "After all, Sirius, Vi, and Sherlock are Harry's guardians. It would be highly inappropriate for someone so young to hear about these things, so Remus and I can take the boys to visit with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid while you three discuss things with Dumbledore. He couldn't possibly argue with that."

"And this is why you were in Slytherin, Ciss," Sirius teased, while his best friend stared in awe at her.

"It's what we do best," Violet agreed with a grin. She was happy to see the tiny bud of possible romance between the two, ignoring any twinges of unease. It wasn't Remus's fault he'd been bitten, after all.

As no one had anything of import to do that day, or at least nothing that couldn't be put off, the group decided to visit the school immediately. The little boys were collected, as were coats, scarves, and gloves, then the whole band trooped over to the fireplace. Violet went through first, startling the Headmaster as she popped through.

"Hello, Professor," she greeted, siphoning ash off her clothes, just as Cissa and Draco came through.

"He- Hello, Ms. Evans, Ms. Black, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore barely stumbled, even for his growing confusion as Sirius, Remus, and finally Sherlock with Harry all came through the fire.

"We just got your note, Professor," Violet explained, hiding her glee behind a polite mask. "And, well, there's no time like the present."

"Indeed," he agreed, though probably only to buy time to adjust his plans.

Remus didn't give him that time, however. "Come along, Harry," he said, taking the boy from Sherlock and swinging him up onto his shoulders. "We're going to visit one of my very favorite teachers," he continued, taking Cissa's arm, and never even looking in Dumbledore's direction.

"He's still angry with me," Dumbledore sighed, after the door swung shut.

Violet gripped Sherlock's hand tightly, preventing the "None of us are exactly fond of you" on the tip of his tongue. "You wanted to discuss what we've found so far?" she prompted Dumbledore instead.

He straightened, implacable mask once more fixed firmly behind twinkling eyes. "Yes, check on your progress, discuss a few more memories I've uncovered since we last spoke."

All three of Harry's guardians agreed, quickly filling in the man on what they had found so far. "Hogwarts is a veritable fortress," he pointed out. "We could keep them all safe here until we find a way to destroy them all."

"Mycroft has prepared a sealed vault for them. And his mansion has rather more wards on it than even Hogwarts," Sherlock rebutted cuttingly, though surprisingly, he did manage to hold onto the smirk he otherwise would have released.

"Thank you, though, Professor," Violet added, for politeness's sake only.

"Tell us more about Riddle," Sherlock demanded. "The more we know about him, the easier it will be to find the last Horcruxes."

"Anything about him while he was here at Hogwarts, or after he left, anything at all, Headmaster," Sirius added, sounding, but not actually feeling, more cordial than Sherlock.

"He was a very popular boy, gaining followers with ease," Dumbledore began reminiscing. "He inspired great loyalty, and very quickly. And he hated everything to do with Muggles, seeing them as lesser beings. Probably because of the Muggle orphanage he grew up in. Tom even tried to get the Headmaster at the time, Professor Armando Dippet, to allow him to stay here in the castle over the summers. He said more than once that it was the only home he'd ever known."

"He was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets, as well, so I assume he was interested in his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin?" Violet asked.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "There's not much that still remains from the Founders, written or artifacts. Anything we think we know about them is mere speculation, but that didn't stop Tom from trying to uncover anything he could. Though, I did remove some of the more pertinent books from the library, once I discovered just what he was looking for."

The thought "I'm sure you did," floated quite loudly from both Sherlock and Sirius, forcing Violet to hide her smirk. "And what about after school? What sort of career did he pursue?"

"None," was Dumbledore's surprising response. "He had quite a few offers, and of course, Horace Slughorn was nearly beside himself with lining up opportunities for the boy, but Tom refused any and all. He asked Armando if he could stay here at Hogwarts, become the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but Armando told him he needed a few years outside of school before he could teach. So, instead, he began working for Borgin and Burkes, becoming a rather indispensable asset for their acquisitions, and a remarkable salesman."

Silence fell at his words, until Sirius finally broke it with an incredulous "Voldemort was a shop boy?"

"Indeed, he was," Dumbledore nodded, eyes twinkling madly. "That's how he found Hepzibah Smith and her treasures he corrupted. He worked there fairly successfully for several years, until he vanished for several more."

The old man trailed off, seeming to be lost in thought. "What aren't you telling us, Professor?" Violet prodded, after several long moments, and a failed attempt to wrest the answer from him without his consent.

He started a bit, shaking his head as if to gather his thoughts once more. "I'm sorry, forgive an old man. I was simply remembering that he came back to Hogwarts, ten years after he disappeared."

When he wasn't more forthcoming than that, Sherlock demanded, "What did he want?"

"The Defense position, though I can't believe he actually had a passion for teaching," Dumbledore answered.

Sirius snorted in derision. "Not likely, except maybe to recruit new members of his army."

"I believe that was his intention, yes."

The Headmaster had nothing further to share with the others, so after several tense moments, Sirius stood. "Well, if that's everything, I would like to visit with Minnie and Hagrid. Good day, Headmaster."

Sherlock and Violet quickly followed suit, though, so did Dumbledore. "I would like to see Harry a bit more, as well," he said, leading the way out of his study.

The trip to McGonagall's office was entertaining, at least for Violet. Dumbledore repeatedly tried to engage Sirius in conversation, only to receive one or two words as answer. But his perseverance was admirable, she supposed.

"This Professor McGonagall," Sherlock said lowly. "Who is she?"

The innocent question warmed Violet. After all, it proved Sherlock's trust in her and her judgement, rather than judging the stranger for himself. "She's the Transfiguration teacher," she began. "Strict, but fair, no matter the House one belongs to. Except for in the case of Quidditch, but that's to be expected. And she never accepted anything less than my absolute best work for her class."

"So, your favorite teacher, then," he replied knowingly.

"And Lily's," Violet smiled a bit sadly. "We both adored her."

A rather stern "Sirius Orion Black," cut off any further talk between the two. They rounded the corner just in time to see a tall, impeccably put together witch gather Sirius into her arms, while Remus and Cissa watched on in amusement. "You rascal," she breathed, eyes glassy.

"Hello, Minnie," he shot back, grinning cheekily.

"You are no longer allowed to cause me grief, young man," she lectured, letting him go.

"It's to keep you young, Minnie," Sirius protested.

McGonagall snorted. "I'm fairly certain you Marauders caused a rather large amount of my grey hairs." Then she turned to Violet. "It's rather good to see you again, Mrs. Holmes, and a pleasure to meet you, of course, Mr. Holmes."

Violet hid a grin as she caught a rather strong thought of "How did I miss that?" from Dumbledore. "Hello, Professor," she replied with a smile as she shook the proffered hand. Sherlock simply nodded in her direction. "It's lovely to see you again, as well."

"I would offer condolences, but seeing as you've moved on quite well, I don't think it's necessary." The words were said in that no-nonsense Scottish way, but Violet could detect a hint of mischievous approval behind them.

"Not at all," she agreed, grinning up at Sherlock. "I'm rather fond of this one."

Sherlock snorted in amusement, though it may have been at the fact that Sirius, Remus, and Cissa were doing a remarkable job at keeping Harry and Dumbledore occupied in different directions, thus thwarting the old man's plans to get to know the little boy. McGonagall noticed, as well, and her eyebrows flew up in astonishment. "Boys," she called, and the two littlest, along with Sirius and Remus, immediately turned their attention to her. "Would you like to hear some stories about your mother and aunt while they were here at school? I have a few that I think you would find rather interesting," she told them, mischievous twinkle belying the almost severe turn of her lips.

Violet and Cissa instantly grew wary, while the rest of their party eagerly awaited the tales. "I'm not sure we need-" Violet began, but she was cut off.

"We need it," five male voices rang out, causing her to sigh in defeat.

"I can tell you as we make our way to Hagrid's home," McGonagall said. "I know he has been looking forward to seeing Harry for quite some time now."


	32. Chapter 32

The group happily trailed throughout the castle, most of them hanging on Professor McGonagall's words. Cissa and Violet, however, mostly tried not to be too embarrassed by the stories she told. Thankfully, she stayed away from anything too mortifying.

Just as they descended the last staircase, they had to pause to let a floating band of caroling ghosts pass. Sherlock froze, causing Violet to pause, as well. "What is it?" she asked lowly.

"It's been lost for centuries," he muttered, lost in thought, staring at the ghosts in fierce determination.

"What?" she repeated, frowning as she slid into his mind. Enlightenment flooded into hers. "Of course, a ghost! The Grey Lady is rumored to be Helena Ravenclaw, so she, out of anyone, might know what happened to her mother's diadem."

"And a convincing, manipulative young man could have gotten its location from her," Sherlock continued. "Then, once he had it in his possession, he might have brought it back here, to the only home he'd ever known."

"Using his interview with the Headmaster as a cover," Violet finished. "But where would he have hidden it?"

"In the Room where things are always hidden," Sirius said lowly. He'd obviously overheard their conversation. "I'll take you."

"Cissa, Remus," Violet called to the others, making up her mind in an instant, "would you mind taking Harry to see Hagrid? There's something we must see to, but we'll join you soon."

Cissa speared her with a look, then nodded regally. "Come along, boys. You heard Auntie Violet. They'll join us soon enough, and I'm sure we can even convince Hagrid to show us some of his animals while we wait."

The promise of animals had the little boys hurrying down the hallway, tugging on Cissa's hands, while Remus stared between the trio still on the stairs. Violet smiled, assuring him they were fine. He nodded, then followed the others on their way outside.

"I think I'll continue on with them, as well," Professor McGonagall said, sending Dumbledore a dirty look.

He looked torn. On the one hand, finding out what Violet and Sherlock had deduced, on the other, somewhat unfettered access to the Boy Who Lived. He sighed. "I suppose I'll come with you," he told her resignedly.

She nodded sharply. "And you'll behave."

The two teachers headed outside, while Sirius led the other couple back the way they had come. "It has to be in the Room of Requirement," he told them, heading up still more flights of stairs.

"The what?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"The Room of Requirement," Sirius repeated. "It turns itself into whatever you want it to be. But one of its functions is to be a sort of… repository for things someone doesn't want anyone else to find. Banned books, broken furniture, even forbidden pets and potions. I used it to hide James's birthday present our Seventh Year. Prat couldn't wait and would have found it anywhere I might have hidden it in the dormitory, so I had to get creative. Remus was the one to suggest the Room of Requirement, and that's when I found this."

He'd led them up to the seventh floor, to a tapestry of a rather foolish wizard trying to teach ballet to trolls. Sirius paced in front of it several times, and a door appeared on the wall next to the tapestry. He flung the door open for the other two, who simply gaped at the amassed assortment of junk inside.

"This will take weeks to get through," Violet groaned. Centuries of forbidden, broken, and forgotten detritus filled the room, which was larger than St. Paul's.

"Months," Sherlock corrected, mind already cataloguing what he could see.

"What are you doing here?" A shrill voice had the three of them turning in time to see a tall, haughty looking ghost hurrying their way.

"Hello, Lady," Violet said respectfully.

"We're looking for Voldemort's Horcrux, the one he made out of your mother's diadem," Sherlock said bluntly. "We want to destroy it."

That stopped her. "Destroy it? Truly? Undo what he… how he corrupted it?" she asked softly.

"Yes, we'll destroy it. We don't want to use it for ourselves," Violet assured.

The ghost stared at them, calculatingly, for a long moment, before she finally nodded. "Follow me," she commanded.

All three followed immediately, not willing to give her a chance to change her mind. They wound through narrow aisles and hallways made from the junk, until she stopped. "There is what you are looking for," she said, barely audible. "Take care of it." And then, she was gone.

They stared at the diadem, resting atop a cage with the skeletal remains of some five-legged creature. Its deep blue sapphire swallowed all light that shone upon it, basking in the shadows it created. A small script, "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," scrolled across the front.

"It can't possibly be this easy," Sirius said lowly, almost as if he feared waking the Horcrux. "Can it?"

"Riddle couldn't have had much time to protect it, like he did with the others, not if he did it while here for his interview," Violet supposed.

"And he was arrogant enough to assume that no one would ever find this place," Sherlock snorted, picking up the diadem without incident. "Even though there's plenty of evidence that it's been found by rather a few others, throughout the years."

"He's always been an arrogant sod," she added.

Sirius laughed, somewhat incredulously. "I just can't get over how easily you two talk about him, like he was just another person."

"He was, is, rather, and he'll die, just like every other person," Violet assured, a cold smile pulling up her lips.

"And soon," Sherlock continued, the same smile pasted across his face.


	33. Chapter 33

A quick vacuum spell later, the diadem was slipped into Violet's handbag and the three of them hurried down to Hagrid's hut. Where the half-giant roared in delight at seeing Sirius. "Sirius Black, goo' t' see you again," he said, enveloping the man in a backbreaking embrace.

"It's good to be seen," Sirius replied, cheekily grinning up at him. "How are you, Hagrid?"

"Oh, jus' fine, ya know me," he huffed. Then, he looked to Violet and Sherlock with a smile. "Pleasure ta see ya again, Vi'let. Ya always did have a deft hand with th' animals."

"I had plenty of practice wrangling this one all my childhood," she grinned back, tugging Sherlock closer. "Hagrid, I'd like you to meet my husband, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, Hagrid, the-"

"Groundskeeper here at Hogwarts," Sherlock finished, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Haggid, c'n we go see th' uyicorns now?" Harry interrupted, his excitement far outshining his normal polite reticence.

"We can," Hagrid grinned down at the boys, both of whom were nearly dancing with anticipation. "And di' you know, yer Auntie Vi'let was always very good with th' unicorns. They just loved her."

Hagrid began to tell the boys more about Violet's Care of Magical Creatures classes involving the unicorns while he led the way to a paddock on the outskirts of the forest. "What was that all about, Vi?" Cissa thought very loudly at her best friend.

Violet and Sherlock shared a look, then once Hagrid and the boys were a ways off, closely followed by McGonagall, she spoke. "We found another Horcrux, in the Room of Requirement."

"Ravenclaw's diadem," Sirius added.

"The diadem? But that's been lost for centuries," Dumbledore breathed.

"And it'll be destroyed with the rest of the foul things, just as soon as we find them all," Remus spat. "I'll catch up with the boys. You can tell me the rest later." He turned and hurried to the boys, catching both of them in his arms and throwing them over his shoulders with ease.

Dumbledore watched him stalk off with sad eyes. "I think it's probably best if I leave you now," he said softly. "My presence isn't required for unicorns."

"Thank you for what you shared with us earlier, Professor," Violet said diplomatically, though she wasn't against him leaving by any means.

"Let me know if I can be of any further assistance." The old man nodded once in goodbye before turning back to the castle. The rest of them joined those at the paddock, where a mother and her very young foal stared interestedly at the boys.

"I thought unicorns preferred girls," Sirius said, chuffing a laugh when they skittered away from him, as if to prove his words.

"Th' boys are young 'nough ta not bother 'em," Hagrid answered. "But they'll like the ladies well 'nough."

At that, the men shifted back, leaving plenty of room for the women and boys to get close to the beautiful creatures. Harry and Draco were fascinated by them, having climbed up the paddock fence to get as close as possible. It took a few moments of careful persuasion, but soon enough, the boys were able to pet the mother, though she wouldn't let her baby closer. Until Hagrid slipped them a handful of sugar cubes each, which both unicorns happily accepted. The boys laughed as the animals lipped their hands clean, tickling their palms.

After eating her sugar cubes, the mother looked at Harry cautiously. After a long moment, she gently rested her horn against his forehead, directly over his scar. "What are you doing? Get off him," Violet instructed the horse, gathering Harry in her arms even as her heart thudded in her ears.

"Wha's 'appened?" Hagrid asked, concern bleeding into his words.

The mother stretched her head over the fence, lightly tapping Harry's scar once more. "Auntie Vi?" Harry asked, little voice filled with fear and confusion.

Violet pulled the boy completely away from the fence, but couldn't tear her eyes off the unicorn. "She keeps touching Harry's scar," she explained, sounding a bit breathless, even to herself.

"Unicorns are powerful magic," Hagrid replied. "Powerful magic."

"Do you suppose she can sense it?" Remus suggested. "The piece of…"

Violet took a small step back toward the fence, then another, keeping eye contact with the unicorn. She wasn't sure why, but she knew that she needed to trust this creature with Harry. That no harm would come to the boy, regardless of what happened.

The mother rested her horn against Harry's scar once more, then closed her eyes gently. "What do you feel, Harry?" Sherlock asked quietly, wrapping his arms around both the boy and his wife.

"It feels warm, Lock," Harry answered happily. "It tickles!"

"I can't imagine a unicorn harming someone," Remus said, voice softly thoughtful. "They're pure magic, and I've never heard of a unicorn attacking anyone."

The mother tapped Harry's scar once more, then turned her head toward her flank, slicing her own side with her horn. A collective gasp tore through the group, unable to believe what they were seeing, the silver blood dripping from her.

Hagrid vaulted the fence and made his way to her side. "Why'd'ya do tha', darlin'?" he crooned, patting her side to soothe her.

"She wants you to use the blood to cast out the darkness in Harry Potter's scar," an unfamiliar voice said, causing the group to turn to see who it was.

Even Violet and Sherlock were surprised by the addition, focusing wholly on what was happening around Harry instead of partially on their surroundings. A palomino centaur with blindingly blond hair trotted toward them, his grave countenance concentrated on the tiny boy, as well. "The blood will rid the boy of the shadow that plagues him," he continued.

"I'm not using unicorn blood on him! That's just trading one curse for another!" Sherlock countered, arms tightening around his little family.

"Unicorn blood forcibly taken curses the one who takes it, yes," the centaur agreed. "But unicorn blood willingly given, however, will cure very nearly any ill a witch or wizard might have."

Violet shared a look with Sherlock, both minds churning at light speed, along parallel tracks. No one spoke, since they didn't need to, but after a moment, they each nodded, turning back to the centaur. "Cissa, keep Draco back," she instructed her friend, not sparing a moment to see her comply. "What do we need to do?" she asked the centaur.

"The mother knows what to do," he said calmly. "Simply trust her."

Violet nodded. "I want you to stay very still, Harry. Can you do that for me, darling?" she asked, squeezing him gently as she positioned him more firmly on the fence, though she didn't let go.

Harry nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. "You're doing wonderfully, Harry. Just be brave for a few more moments," Sherlock whispered, taking the boy's glasses off and brushing his hair back from his face. For once, it actually stayed, as if somehow it knew to stay out of the way for what came next.

The mother unicorn dipped her horn into the blood still sluggishly flowing from her side, coating it nicely. Then, ever so slowly, she traced over the horrid scar on Harry's forehead, neatly slicing it open once more. Harry, for all his efforts, couldn't contain the tiniest of whimpers, nearly breaking Violet's heart. "You're so brave, my darling," she whispered, tears spilling from her eyes to match those from his. "You're so brave. Just a few more moments, and then it'll all be over."

The mother coated her horn in her own blood again, then gently painted it over the scar. She did it three times, then huffed gently over it. Without warning, a piercing cry sounded, though no one opened their mouth, and a black shadow fled from the wound before dissipating into nothing. The mother shook her head emphatically, as if to say that her job was done.

Another cry sounded, though this was as different from the other as possible. Whereas the first cut to the quick, harming and slicing and penetrating to the very center, this new cry soothed, healed, warmed. And the cry heralded a gorgeous bird, looking like the very embodiment of flame as it landed on the fence next to Harry. It cocked its head, looking at the boy for a moment, before putting its head, so very softly, on the boy's. Several tears slipped from its eye onto the scar, which closed straight away. And further, it healed completely, as smooth and blemish-free as the rest of the boy's skin.


	34. Chapter 34

"I ain't never seen nothin' like tha'," Hagrid breathed in astonishment. "Firenze, 'ow'd you know it'd work?"

The centaur bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Unicorns are creatures of light magic, as are phoenixes. What more does one need to drive out darkness but a little light?"

"Thank you," Violet told him. "I'm not sure I would have allowed her to do that without your encouragement."

"No innocent should suffer, and if I can help alleviate that, I will do what I can. But it is Alora and Fawkes who you should thank," he replied, indicating the unicorn and bird.

"Of course, we thank you both," Sherlock told the animals, who both nodded, clearly understanding the words. Fawkes, the phoenix, flew to Alora's side, dropped a few tears on her flank to heal it, then took to the air. He circled overhead a few times, trilling his soothing song, then banked to go back up to the castle.

Alora huffed once more, as if to say that the humans were no longer in need of her attention, then she turned to her baby. She nudged him with her nose, and they both trotted to the far side of the paddock, backs turned to the humans still looking at them.

Both boys were a bit shaken after the healing, not to mention the adults, so it was quickly decided that it was best for all to head home. Professor McGonagall graciously offered her office fireplace for the Floo, and the group took her up on it. Cissa and Draco headed back to Malfoy Manor, Sirius and Remus to the Black House, and Violet, Sherlock, and Harry to Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson was waiting for them when they arrived home. "It's about time you got back," she said, immediately fussing about them all. "I don't know why Dumbledore couldn't have waited, but now you're home. How was the honeymoon, dears?" Then, without waiting for a response, and indeed, hardly a breath, she continued. "It's been so quiet without you lot. I'm not used to it, and I don't like it. I've made dinner, and I even had time for a cake, but just this once, mind. Now, sit and eat."

Violet grinned to herself. It may have only been three days they'd been away, but it was good to be home.

…

"It's been three weeks, and we've not found the tiniest clue as to where the locket is," Sherlock growled, pacing the length of the lounge at Baker Street. "Three weeks! And nothing!"

"We've found five of them, mate, and gotten Harry clear of it," John reminded. "We've got something."

"Still possibly two more to go. Everything, all of this will be for naught if we can't find and destroy them all," Sherlock countered.

Violet frowned. "I think we're just looking for the locket," she said slowly. "I have a feeling that Riddle would have saved the seventh for… for Harry. Killing him would have pronounced him the victor, according to the prophecy, so he would have saved his last for his greatest victory. He was always big on drama."

"So, wait," Mary said, looking confused. "Was he planning on making seven Horcruxes, or did he count the bit in his body as the seventh? In his plan, anyway."

"His body was the seventh. Seven is a rather powerful number in magic," Cissa explained. "And his soul would have been rather unstable, so to split it again would have been unwise. Not that it was wise to do it at all, but he really didn't want to die."

The adults were having a bit of a war council, since the children had all been invited to play at the Longbottoms'. It was a rare occasion for none of them to have their children, and they were determined to make the most of it. Even without any new leads.

"We're sure it's the locket?" Mary questioned.

"Probably," Violet answered.

"Not absolutely, but it fits," Sherlock continued. And without his usual level of derisive arrogance. "Hepzibah Smith had it, before her death, and Dumbledore has the memory from her house elf of her showing Riddle the locket. It hasn't been seen since her death, so it's quite easy to assume that he stole it."

"And since it was Slytherin's, as well as what he would see as his own inheritance, he would have seen the allure," Cissa finished. "Something belonging to Hogwarts, and that lent a bit of legitimacy to his claims."

"Even if he really was only a half-blood," Violet grinned. "He did not announce that to his loyal followers."

Cissa smiled back. "I wonder what Lucius would say, if he knew."

"What am I missing?" Sherlock muttered, not paying any attention to the others. They were used to it. "Someone else he might have trusted."

"Everyone else is dead or in Azkaban," Violet reminded him. "I made sure of that."

"There might be someone you're missing," he countered. "Not that I blame you. Someone from before you… from before. Someone he trusted early on, from his schooldays, perhaps."

Cissa frowned. "He didn't really trust anyone, not really. Even his most loyal followers were only trusted so long as he still had need of them. And then he killed them."

"So long as he still had need of them," Sherlock repeated, wheels turning. "Someone he trusted, and then didn't."

Violet shook her head. "He would have killed them, and then taken the Horcrux and hidden it elsewhere."

"Was there anyone else?" Mary asked. "Any double agents, perhaps?"

"Severus was the only one I know of," Cissa replied.

"And he only managed it because he's an accomplished Occlumens himself. Besides, I would have gotten it from Dumbledore if he'd had anyone else," Violet said, shooting that theory down.

"But what if Dumbledore didn't know?" John suggested.

The rest of the room turned to stare at him. "I mean, it's logical, isn't it? You lot don't really trust Dumbledore more than you could throw him, so it would make sense if someone else didn't, as well. Maybe there was another organization, or even just a single person, or-"

"John, you are brilliant," Sherlock breathed.

"It would have to be someone who was also skilled in Occlumency," Cissa quickly theorized.

"But who?" Violet asked, mentally flipping through those she had known in Riddle's inner circle. One name stuck out, mentally tripping her up. "Regulus," she breathed.

"Reg?" Cissa was shocked, then slowly nodded. "It makes sense. Bella brought him into the fold, and he was accepted far more quickly than others without the connection. And he was brilliant."

"And he just disappeared," Violet reminded. "No one knew what happened to him. If it had been the Ministry, it would have been in the Prophet, and I would have known about it. But even Bella and Rodolphus didn't know where he was. I remember, because Walburga came begging for any news. She died shortly after."

"We have to go to the Black House," Sherlock announced. "There might be some semblance of a clue, anything there to help us."

John wasn't terribly keen on Apparition just yet, so they all took the Floo. "Don't touch anything here," Violet warned the two Muggles as she cleaned off the soot for them. "I know Sirius and Remus are trying to clean it up, but the Blacks have been-" She stopped herself with a glance at her best friend.

Who simply smirked. "We've been involved in the Dark Arts since before England was a kingdom."

A small head popped around the corner. "Miss Cissa! You've come home!" The tiny, ancient house elf had a disproportionately deep voice, surprising the Watsons.

"Yes, I have, Kreacher," she smiled kindly. "Is Sirius around?"

Instantly, a hate-filled scowl crossed his face. "Master Sirius and his filthy friend are trying to clean up the place, though there's nothing wrong with it."

The entire party of visitors looked around the room, noting the dust coating every surface. "Of course not, Kreacher. But it's important that we speak with them. Where are they?" Cissa asked in honeyed tones.

"They are in the drawing room," he huffed, clearly not happy with the return of his master.

Cissa led the way up to the drawing room, ignoring the house elf heads mounted on the walls. John and Mary weren't as… used to the décor, so they each stared in somewhat fascinated horror. "Your family was a bit mad," Mary stated, a little in awe.

"You could say that again," Sirius said, popping his head from the drawing room door. "What are you lot here for? Not that you're not welcome, of course."

Cissa kissed his cheek, swept past him into the room, and then pressed a kiss to Remus's cheek, as well. Violet, having been right behind her, had the perfect view to see Remus flush, just the tiniest bit. "We think Reg might have done something with the locket, the last Horcrux," Cissa said, looking at her cousin carefully.

"The old git trusted him-"

"I think Regulus actually may have found out about the Horcruxes and tried to stop Riddle," Violet hurried to correct him. "He simply disappeared one day, and no one knew how or why. I remember when your mother burst into LeStrange Hall, screaming for news of her son. She knew he was dead, courtesy of that tapestry," she pointed to the elaborate wall hanging, containing every (acceptable) descendant of the House of Black. "But none of us knew how he'd died, couldn't tell her anything. Bella even asked Riddle, though he claimed not to know anything, either."

"And Regulus was always rather good at Occlumency. He would have been able to keep anything he learned from Riddle," Cissa added.

Sirius stared at the two of them, hope battling with dread and despair. He closed his eyes and shouted, "Kreacher!"

A loud crack preceded the ancient elf. "Master called?" he asked, disdain written all over his face.

"Did my brother bring a locket here? One from Voldemort?" Sirius asked him.

No one could have predicted Kreacher's reaction. He gasped, violently, then threw himself onto the ground, banging his head against the floor. "Bad Kreacher! Kreacher has failed his Master Regulus!"

The humans in the room were all shocked, frozen for a moment. But Sirius recovered enough to shout, "Kreacher, stop! I forbid you to punish yourself!"

The elf froze halfway through bringing his head back down to the ground. "But Kreacher has failed his Master," he whined pitifully. "Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to destroy it, but Kreacher couldn't do it! He tried, he tried so hard, but he couldn't!"

"Where is it?" Sirius demanded. "Is it here, in the house?"

Kreacher looked up at Sirius cagily, but Sherlock caught the look. "We will destroy it, Kreacher, just like Master Regulus wanted."

That got the proper response. With a crack, Kreacher crossed the room to the glass cabinets, removed something, then crossed back, with another crack, locket dangling from his fist. "Master Regulus wanted to destroy it, but Kreacher couldn't do it. Kreacher has failed his Master," he said sadly as he gave the locket to Sirius.

Violet's heart went out to the pitiful being in front of her. "Will you tell us how Regulus got it? How did he find it?"

"Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord when he was sixteen, like a good, proper Black." Kreacher spun the tale, with all the humans in the room hanging on his every word, how Regulus had discovered Riddle's true intentions and his plans for the Horcruxes, after lending Kreacher to him. He'd had Kreacher take him back to the cave where the locket was hidden. "And then Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to switch the lockets and go home, but Kreacher couldn't leave Master Regulus! And then Master Regulus drank the potion, and Kreacher switched the lockets, and then Master Regulus was dragged under the water!" At that, Kreacher dissolved into tears, wailing about his beloved Master Regulus and how he had failed him.

"You did exactly as Regulus asked," Cissa said kindly. "You didn't fail him."

"But Kreacher didn't destroy the locket, Miss Cissy," he cried, throwing himself to the ground again. His tiny fists pounded the floor in his agony. "Kreacher tried, but nothing Kreacher did worked! Not even a mark on it! Kreacher failed his Master!"

"Kreacher, go back to the foyer," Sirius said, far more kindly than he had spoken to him earlier. "Do not punish yourself more for this. We will take care of the locket, destroy it like Regulus wanted. Go back to the foyer and speak with my mother for a while."

The elf looked to him in gratitude, before nodding and leaving with another crack.

"That's the real Horcrux," Remus said, staying as far away from his best friend as possible.

"You feel it, don't you?" Sirius asked him. "It feels like the others?"

Remus nodded. "This room feels worse than the rest of the house. I figured it was simply the collection in the cabinets, since we've found some pretty nasty things in there already. But yes, the moment Kreacher pulled the locket out, I could tell. It feels like the others, like Riddle."

"Yeah, it feels evil," John added, from the doorway. He'd scooted almost out of the room when the locket had been pulled from the cabinet.

With a thought, Sherlock encased it in the vacuum charm, enabling both men to relax. The locket was passed between all of them, each one taking a look at it. "Is that really the last one?" Violet whispered. "Is the hunt really over?"

Sherlock took her hand in his. "We've found them all, all the Horcruxes. Mycroft is preparing to destroy them all, then all we've got left is to find the git himself. And then Harry's safe."

"And then Harry's safe," she repeated, almost in awe at the fact.

"Our world will be safe," Cissa added. "At least from that nutter."

"And Merlin help the fool who comes for our family," Remus finished, just a hint of the wolf in the dark smile crossing his face.

Violet looked around at the adult members of the little family she and Sherlock had made for themselves and smiled. "Merlin help them, indeed," she murmured.


	35. Chapter 35

It was less then a week later that nearly all the adults in Harry's life gathered together in Mycroft's home. Harry was there, as well as Rosie and Draco, but they were safely ensconced in what Anthea had transformed into a playroom for the three of them. "I may not ever have children of my own," she reminded Mycroft, "but that doesn't mean I can't spoil these three rotten."

But the adults were gathered for a much more serious matter. In the very center of Mycroft's library stood a table, with five seemingly innocent objects lying atop it, a large stone box at one end. Each still had the vacuum charms, so the more sensitive members of the assembled party could feel a bit more at ease. Sherlock and Violet perused the items one last time, just to make sure they hadn't missed anything.

"What's on the ring?" Violet asked, to no one in particular. She picked it up, noticing a marking on the stone for the first time. But she gasped and nearly dropped it when she realized just what that marking was.

"What is it?" Sherlock demanded, at her side in an instant.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is," she said, holding it out for him to examine.

Head tilted, he looked at it. "No, it can't be. But- The triangle, the circle, the line. It can't really be it. It's just a myth."

At his words, William joined them, silently requesting to see the ring.

"What are they talking about?" John asked, while the elderly man examined the marking.

"It's just a myth, hardly more than a bedtime story," Remus started. "But the marking, could it be?"

"Could it be what?" Mary demanded, a little shortly. After all, as Muggles, she and John had no idea what they could be talking about.

"I think it's the Resurrection Stone," William said reverently. "The real thing."

"It can't possibly be," Cissa declared. "Everyone knows the story is just that, a story."

"There's only one way to find out," Violet said, plucking the ring from her father-in-law's hand. She held her left hand up, then spun the ring three times on her palm.

Several ghostly forms sprung up around her. "My darling girl," the older man to her left said.

"You've grown so beautiful," the woman added, smiling through ghostly tears.

"And you've saved my boy." The other female form was more girl than woman, her striking red hair dancing behind her.

"You've saved our Harry," her equally young husband said happily.

"You've done wonderfully," Phoebe Greengrass Evans said, praising the daughter she'd not seen in nearly thirty years.

"You ridded the world of so many Death Eaters, my darling girl," Edward Evans told her, looking younger than he had when he'd died at nearly fifty.

Lily and James Potter held hands and grinned at her. "And you've found all the Horcruxes. Harry will be safe," James said.

Lily held out a hand to Violet. "You've done it, Vi. You've kept your word, and there's nothing to stop you from joining us now. Come join us. I miss you. I need my big sister."

"But Harry and I need her more," Sherlock hissed, knocking aside his wife's outstretched hand. He snatched the ring from her, breaking the enchantment on the ring.

Violet stared hard at where her dead family members had stood. Then, without warning, she dropped to the floor, sobbing. Sherlock joined her instantly, wrapping her in his arms. "It wasn't really them," she cried. "It wasn't really them, but it looked and sounded just like them. And I miss them so much."

While Sherlock held her, the others in the room pulled themselves together, as well. The sight of James and Lily had nearly undone Sirius and Remus, and the elder Holmeses were stunned at seeing their old friends once again. John and Mary comforted the older couple, while Cissa wrapped an arm around Sirius and Remus, each.

It was a long moment before Violet allowed Sherlock to pull her to her feet. "I know it wasn't them," she said again, composed once more, "even though it sounded like them. James would never have ignored his two best friends, for one thing."

That brought a weak smile to the two remaining Marauders' faces.

"Why don't we dispose of the Horcruxes, then call it a day?" Mycroft suggested smoothly.

Each horcrux was placed in the stone box, then Mycroft closed it with a complicated wand movement. That left a small square opening on the top. "Would you care to do the honors, Violet?" he asked his sister-in-law.

She nodded grimly, pulling her wand from the knot in her hair. Sticking her wand hand into the box, she silently cast the spell. She was quick to remove her hand, and Mycroft followed to seal the box completely. Another tap of his wand turned the box transparent, allowing them all to see inside.

The Fiendfyre Violet had conjured consumed the objects inside, turning into tiny chimeras, dragons, and snakes. It burned for several moments, until there was nothing left inside to burn, and it finally snuffed out.

"It's done," Mycroft announced. "Riddle no longer has anything safeguarding him here in this life."

"Now all that's left is finding where the git is hiding and taking him out," John added, bringing a touch of much needed levity to the gathering.

"And we will, no doubt of that," Sherlock said. "He'll not be around much longer to threaten Harry."

"Or the rest of the world," his mother corrected slightly.

"Of course," Violet agreed amiably. But she knew that she and Sherlock didn't care for the world. It was only Harry and the rest of their loved ones who they were working so hard for.

…

But, for all their searching, they seemed unable to find Riddle's hidey hole. Violet and Sherlock, especially, were frustrated, but as they couldn't do anything, she encouraged him to continue helping Lestrade with his cases, and even to take on new clients. "We're still doing everything we can to find Riddle, but that doesn't mean it has to consume our every waking moment," she reminded.

So it was that she found herself at Malfoy Manor, visiting with Cissa while the boys played happily together, under the watchful eye of Dobby. He adored both boys, and it gave Cissa an opportunity to speak with an adult for some time without childish interruptions. "What's Sherlock's case this time?" she asked eagerly, longing for something more mentally stirring than rolling a ball across the floor, something Draco had been obsessed with for days now.

"It involves a pickpocket, an escort, and a bank robbery, all very confusing," Violet replied, hand waving airily to dismiss it.

"So, you've both got it solved already then," Cissa laughed.

"It's a bit obvious, if you think about it," Vi said.

"Only to the two of you."

Vi smiled mischievously. "Have you decided about school for Draco? I know Harry and Neville would love having him join them in September."

Cissa sighed. "I think I'll send him with, I'm only having a bit of a time wrapping my mind around it. Malfoys never did anything so plebian as attending Muggle school before Hogwarts, and Blacks most certainly never did."

"It's a good thing a new age is dawning for both families, then," Vi grinned. "It'll be good for him," she added, giving her friend's hand a squeeze.

"Sirius agrees, which almost sent me in entirely the opposite direction," Cissa said wryly.

"He isn't known for the most rational ideas, that's true."

After several delightful hours for all involved, it was time for Violet and Harry to head home. "We'll see you tomorrow, with Neville and Rosie," she assured the boys.

"And you'll get to go to the zoo," Cissa reminded. "So, we need to say goodbye now in order to see them tomorrow."

The boys didn't look convinced, but reluctantly, slowly disentangled themselves. While they finished hugging, Violet checked her mobile. A text from Mrs. Hudson let her know Sherlock had a client waiting in their lounge, so once she'd gathered Harry into her arms and said goodbye to the Malfoys (again), she Apparated into the entryway of 221.

Violet opened and closed the front door, giving the impression that they'd just come in from outside. "Go visit Mrs. Hudson for a moment while I take care of Lock's client," she told the boy, who happily complied. After all, Mrs. Hudson was rarely without biscuits for adorable little boys.

Violet pasted on a convincing smile, preparing herself to greet the client. But one glance at the woman comfortably lounging in Sherlock's chair wiped it off cleanly. "What are you doing here?" she asked the woman, who sat in (apparently) nothing but Sherlock's dressing gown.


	36. Chapter 36

"I had heard Sherlock was playing house," Irene said, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. "I had to see for myself."

"I think we're a bit past playing," Violet replied, resisting the urge to pull the other woman's hair from her head. "We married months ago."

"Congratulations." Irene's eyes widened in false enthusiasm. "You must be very happy."

"What do you want?" Violet asked again. She most definitely did not want that woman in her home, much less wearing her husband's dressing gown.

"I told you. Have you forgotten already?" The words coming from Irene's mouth oozed false concern, grating on Violet's waning patience.

"We both know that can't possibly be the only reason. If it was, you'd have come when you knew Sherlock would be home, not when he's out on a case."

An amused curl of the lip slipped out before Irene sighed. "I owe Sherlock, for saving my life, you know. He went all the way-"

"Yes, he saved you from terrorists who had very understandable reasons for killing you," Violet interrupted. "It was terribly romantic, and you've been unable to think of another man since. Now, back to why you're here."

"Well, I have half a mind not to tell you after that," Irene huffed, not used to being cut off (or, dare she think it, dismissed) by anyone. Other than Sherlock, of course.

"Then why waste the time to come here? Tell me just what it is you think you know so you can leave." Violet fixed the other woman with a very determined glare, which the other simply returned. "Or I can take it from you, and you'll leave, anyway."

"It's rather rude to read one's mind, you know."

"It's far ruder to enter one's home and wear one's husband's dressing gown, but here we are."

"Hmm. Anyway, there are some whispers, within a certain group of people, about a boy. A boy living with Sherlock Holmes, and it would seem that there are people after him. People who may want to kill him."

"This is nothing new to either me or Sherlock," Violet said dismissively, though her heart froze at the thought of someone trying to kill Harry.

"But these whispers all seem to be about two very specific people, a rat and a snake."

"A rat and a snake? The rat must be Pettigrew, but a snake? You couldn't possibly be more specific than that?"

Violet began pacing as she thought aloud, unconsciously mimicking her husband. Irene noted it with a slight twinge, somewhere in her chest area. She shook it off with a blasé shrug. "It's all I know."

Being pinned under Violet's rather searching gaze was a new and alarmingly uncomfortable experience for Irene. After a long moment, Violet nodded. "You know the way out. Make sure you leave Sherlock's dressing gown. It may need an exorcism, though."

"You'll never be rid of the ghost of me," Irene smirked, heading toward the stairs, noticeably still wearing the dressing gown in question. In fact, she tugged the ties more securely around her waist.

"You're confused, darling. Exorcisms are for demons, not ghosts," Violet quipped back.

Just before leaving, Irene turned back to the other woman. "Do you really love him? And do you really think he could possibly love you?"

"Have you ever kissed him?" Violet asked, turning the tables. "Rather, has he ever kissed you?"

"And more," Irene replied promptly, a broad smirk painting her red lips.

"Then you'll know how, with something as simple as a kiss, Sherlock can pour his entire attention, the entire focus of his whole being, into that kiss. You'd know exactly how exhilarating it is to be the whole focus of someone like him. Well, really, just him, because there is no one else like him."

Irene stared at her for a moment, before silently turning back to the stairs. The door opened, far too soon for it to be her leaving, and Violet heard her greeting Sherlock and his puzzled reply. The door shut just about the time Sherlock emerged from the stairwell. "Why was she here?" he asked, looking adorably confused.

But Violet was not appeased by his adorableness. "Why didn't you ask her? She's clearly comfortable enough here to not only find your dressing gown, but to mysteriously lose her clothing, as well."

"I haven't seen Adler in years, Violet. I have no idea what she was doing here."

"Did you ever make love to her?"

"Vi, what is-"

"Answer the question, Sherlock!" Violet almost didn't recognize her own shrill voice.

"Sex, yes, make love, never." Sherlock crossed the small room to take her hands. "You are the only woman I have ever loved, the only woman I will ever love, with my mind, heart, and body. Yes, I slept with her. It was your birthday, and I'd just seen some picture of you and LeStrange," he spit the name out like a poison. "I was missing you terribly, and Adler offered a… distraction. She reminded me of you, in the tiniest bit, but failed to compare in the end. Badly. It really only highlighted the differences between you, and it never happened again."

"Did you love her?"

"No, Vi!" he cried, dropping her hands and shoving his through his hair. "I only ever cared for how she reminded me of you!"

But Violet's abused heart wasn't quite ready to believe him just yet. "John said you mourned when you thought she was dead."

"John doesn't know everything," he said, turning to the window. "I mourned because I- I almost felt as if I'd lost you again, and I couldn't- I didn't handle it well, though better than Mycroft had evidently expected."

"So, you never cared for her?" Violet knew she was being needy, and terribly insecure, but she needed to know, needed that reassurance.

"Absolutely not!" Sherlock replied vehemently, then went stock still for a long moment. "I'm not in love with Adler, Vi, any more than you are with Sirius," he finally said, looking at his wife intently.

That stopped her in her tracks. "Oh."

"I love you, Violet Isabelle Holmes," he continued, taking her hands in his again, kissing her fingertips. "It's only ever been you. Anyone else was a distraction from you, or me desperately trying to replicate you, or any combination thereof. You are the love of my life, and there will never be another."

Violet pulled her hands from his, but only to use them to pull his face closer to hers. "I love you," she whispered. "I'm sorry I… reacted badly."

Sherlock didn't say anything, simply kissed her. And, as per usual, he focused his entire being on kissing her, on making her happy.


	37. Chapter 37

"A snake, a snake… Adler couldn't have been more specific than that, could she?" Violet grumbled, pacing in the Watsons' lounge. "Most people I know are snakes."

"I'm guessing that's some magical… something," Mary said, trying to understand. They'd all gathered at Marylebone Road for Violet to share just what Adler had told her the day before, but no one knew what to make of it.

"Our House, Slytherin, has a snake for a mascot," Cissa explained. "So, telling Vi it's a snake after Harry is about as vague as it's possible to be, while still being in the realm of helpful."

Enlightenment flooded the two Muggles' faces. "So, each House has their own mascot?" John asked.

"Gryffindors are lions," Sirius replied. "Ravenclaws are eagles, and Hufflepuffs are badgers."

"You'd think Ravenclaws would be ravens," John shot back with a cheeky grin.

But Violet heard nothing of their banter. She continued to run her mental overview of every Slytherin she'd ever known, or even known about. She didn't get far, however, as a tiny blur careened into her legs, followed by giggles. "Auntie Vi, we're hungry," Harry laughed up at her.

"Well, I do suppose it is lunch time," Mary said, looking down at Rosie at her feet. "Should we feed this lot, Rosie Posie?"

Lunch was soon ordered, and the children scurried back to play. "I'm so glad the kids all get along," John sighed.

"It does make things a bit easier, yes," Cissa agreed with a smile.

"Harry needs them, so much," Violet added. "The children in his old neighborhood were all too… intimidated by Dudley to be friends with Harry, so he never had anyone to play with. In the odd moments he had free." Her jaw clenched as she thought about her horrid sister.

"But now he's safe, and incredibly happy," Remus reminded. "And so loved. He'll probably not even remember the Dursleys."

Just as the delivery driver rang the bell, Violet's mobile rang, as well. Sherlock's name flashed across the screen. Her heart lurched. If he was calling, that wasn't a good sign. "Sherlock, what-"

"It's Mycroft," her brother-in-law corrected. "My people found him. Violet, he's been drugged."

All the air in her lungs seemed to leave her at once, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. Cissa's arm around her shoulder jerked her back to the present. "What happened, Mycroft?"

"Get here, and I'll tell you."

After hanging up, Violet turned to Mary and John, who stood frozen by the table sorting the food. "Can you watch Harry? I've got to-"

"I'll go with you," John said instantly. "You'll be okay with both kids?" he asked his wife.

"We'll stay here until you've got this sorted," Cissa announced. "Go to Sherlock."

"Hope you enjoy your first time Apparating, John," Violet said, grabbing his arm. Tapping into the charm linking her wedding band with Sherlock's, she turned on her heel, dragging John with.

John stumbled, retching, after landing, but Violet simply strode over to where her husband lay in a hospital bed. "What happened, Mycroft?" she asked, taking Sherlock's hand in hers. She refused to cry, since he was safe. Clearly sedated, but safe. Instead, she focused all her energy in finding out what had happened. After all, that was the first step to finding who had done it, and that was her goal here.

Mycroft actually looked tired. "He was working on that case for Lestrade, the one with the-"

"The porcupine, yes. He solved it hours ago," Violet rebutted.

"Which is why I was home," John reminded, far paler than his usual, but otherwise steady.

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why he was still loitering around the scene of the crime, hours after solving the crime. That's where he was when he was drugged. Someone disguised as a crime scene cleaner brushed by him, injecting him with twice his normal dose of heroin. My people caught up with him, stumbling round about a block away from there. They brought him here immediately, and thankfully the healers are fully prepared for this type of emergency."

"Why don't you just call them doctors, mate? Healers just sounds pretentious," John said, covering his worry for Sherlock by indulging in Sherlock's favourite past-time: baiting Mycroft.

"Because that's what they are, John. We're in a magical hospital, and we call them healers," Violet explained, letting out a tiny smile at the situation.

John looked around the room with renewed interest. But the other two conscious ignored him. "So, what are we supposed to think, Mycroft? Was it a play to make us think that Sherlock had relapsed, and ridiculously overshot his dosage? Or were they just hoping to take him out, and that happened to be their disposal method?"

He was quiet for a moment. "It's far too early to dismiss any theory just yet. But, if it was supposed to make us think Sherlock had… fallen off the wagon, they clearly have studied him well. There was a note in his coat pocket."

"A suicide note?" Violet scoffed. "How pedestrian."

"A list, more like," John guessed. "Telling just what and how much he'd taken?"

"Sherlock promised me years ago that he would write such a note every time he partook of an illicit substance," Mycroft explained to Violet. "So, they knew that, and had some sample of his handwriting, as it was rather convincing. Though, we both know how easy that is to forge, with or without magic."

"Well, they may have known about the note, but they're forgetting one little thing," John said, rather smugly. "Sherlock promised Vi he wouldn't touch a drop. And he likes his happy little family how it is."

Violet smiled sharply. "Yes, I did tell him if he ever relapsed that he would never see Harry or me ever again. I think that's a rather compelling reason to stay away from the foul stuff."

"Yes, Sherlock hasn't used since that case shortly after your wedding, John. And I must admit to feeling rather hopeful that he'll really make it this time." Mycroft watched over his little brother, far more kindly than he'd ever let him see.

…

Sherlock was kept in a magical coma for three days to rid his body of the lingering effects of the drug. Violet brought Harry to see him every day, where the little boy proceeded to tell his Lock all about his day. Harry would explain, in somewhat excruciating detail, exactly what he'd done, and all that Auntie Vi and Mrs. Hudson had done, and Rosemud and Draco, and all the others who orbited Harry's world. But, on the fourth day, Sherlock was awake and waiting for them when they arrived.

"Lock!" Harry cried, diving from Vi's arms onto the bed. "Lock, I misseded you! So, so, so, so, so much!"

"I missed you, too, Harry," Sherlock replied, cuddling the boy closer and pressing a kiss to his head.

"You are never allowed to scare me like that ever again, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," Violet scolded, nearly collapsing onto the bed next to the patient. "I was so worried."

He kissed her for a long moment. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry. Just concentrate on getting better." Violet kissed him again, quickly this time, then busied herself in arranging the cards she's brought with her. "Mrs. Hudson sends her love, and said to tell you she'll make her onion and garlic soup when you get home. Cissa and Draco said they would come visit this afternoon, and Mycroft said he would bring the Watsons later, as well."

The elder Holmeses arrived soon after, fussing and clucking over their son, who endured it rather well, for Sherlock. But when Sherlock and Harry both started yawning, it was decided that Cecelia and William would take Harry home with them, letting Violet stay with Sherlock for the rest of the day. "After all, I think it's quite past time that you lot came for a visit, anyway," Cecelia announced. "You'll be staying with us for a few days once Sherlock's released tomorrow. It'll be perfect." She hugged Violet, pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, and collected Harry before Sherlock could even form a protest.

"We'll see you tomorrow," William grinned, following his wife out the door.

"It looks like a Holmes trait to marry strong-willed women," Violet grinned at Sherlock. "Sleep, and I'll be here when you wake."

"I love you, my strong-willed wife," he told her, sleepy smile sliding off his face.

"I love you, my stubborn husband," she replied, kissing him softly.

…

That night, after calling Cecelia to give Harry his goodnight, Violet made herself a cup of tea at home. Earl Grey, a splash of milk, no sugar, just how she liked it. It should have been something more like chamomile, without any caffeine, but she needed the comfort of her favorite. It was difficult to see her usually strong husband relegated to a bed, even for only a few days. And even if he did protest it, loudly. It was only after several healers threatened to stun him, or use the Full-Body Bind, that he had finally agreed to behave.

Violet's tea was the perfect temperature, and she relished the warmth as she sipped it. She'd gotten used to having two other bodies often pressed against hers, and Harry in particular tended to run warm. Not feverish, just a little warmer than typical. John had assured her, repeatedly, that he was perfectly healthy and there was nothing to worry about. But, he'd always had a smile on his face, like he'd known exactly what she was feeling. Like it was a perfectly normal parent thing.

She enjoyed the quiet in the flat for a few moments. Between Harry and Sherlock, she wasn't used to there ever being a quiet moment, except when they were all asleep. But she settled against the window sill and watched the world outside for a while, watched all of those people going their own way, minding their own business, all stuck in their own worlds. Until it all went black.


	38. Chapter 38

Awareness seemed to come to Violet all at once, though she did manage to play dead, so to speak. After all, the chair underneath her was entirely unfamiliar, as were the voices she could barely hear. And, an additional worry, her Legilimency was dampened, not reaching outside the room she was in. That was only a minor worry. She never did depend on it, at least not solely. Instead, she focused on the feel of ropes around her wrists, tying them behind her back. The lack of further bands told her it was a magical person, confident in their ability to keep her there without any further restraints. Ah, the arrogance of the Pureblood, she thought, repressing the grin that wanted to escape.

The door opened. "You can quit pretending to be asleep, Violet," a high voice said. "The monitoring charm alerted me the moment you woke."

She opened her eyes with a yawn. "One never knows which snake might be around, so it never hurts to be cautious, Barty. Where's your rat?" she asked politely, as if back in the LeStrange Hall for tea.

"He's around." Barty threw a dismissive hand in the vague direction of the door. The room was rather small, and only had the one exit, but it didn't worry Violet.

"Out of all the snakes I know, I really didn't expect it to be you, so congratulations on surprising me," she said. She wanted to keep his attention off the ropes she'd already untied. And it wouldn't hurt to rummage around using her Legilimency. "Of course, I'd thought you were dead, like everyone else, but still, you surprised me."

"Oh, such high praise coming from Violet LeStrange," he mocked. "You never were anything special, just an ornament for Rab's arm."

"Then why go through all this trouble to get me?" she asked, once again holding back a smirk. After all, she'd spent more than half her life pretending to be nothing special. And, it appeared to have worked on yet another person.

"That new husband of yours seems particularly problematic for our plans."

"Yes, he does tend to do that," Violet agreed, though keeping her triumph to herself as she began to dig in his mind, and she was getting a wealth of information. "So, what are these plans of yours?"

Barty laughed, but turned his back to her. He added some shredded mandrake leaves to the potion he was brewing, stirring anti-clockwise a few times. "Do you think you can ask me a few questions and I'll suddenly spill all my secrets? I'm not a villain in a Muggle film, Vi."

I don't need you to even talk to spill your secrets, Violet thought with vicious glee as she gained the location of Riddle's current hiding place. A wood in Albania, most likely where he'd found Ravenclaw's diadem. "Are you doing this for Voldemort, or for Bella?" she asked.

That caught his attention. His sudden jerk nearly upset his potion. "What are you on about? What does Bella have to do with anything?"

Violet monitored his appearance closely. His color was up, a very good result. "I simply thought you might have heard, but I suppose being in Azkaban isn't the best place to get news. And then, once he switched you out for your mum, dear old dad wasn't terribly keen on giving you news, I suppose."

"What didn't I hear?" Barty spat, crossing the short distance to stand directly in front of Vi.

And he missed that I know how he escaped Azkaban, she noted. Perfect. "When you and the LeStranges attacked the Longbottoms, they were waiting for you. Didn't you ever wonder how they knew? I mean, even Rodolphus figured it out."

Violet watched the understanding dawn across his face, then braced for the slap she knew was coming. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn't anything she couldn't heal once she was done with the whole affair. "You told them," Barty hissed. "You betrayed us."

"Actually, I used you all," she corrected. "My auntie happens to be the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As soon as Rab started showing interest in me, I went to Auntie Amelia and presented a plan where I could use what I heard around him to bring down the Death Eaters, from the inside. It helps that I'm a Legilimens and could read every thought you ever had around me."

Another slap sent her head snapping to the side. She had to keep her hands behind her back, to stop from wiping away the blood that trickled from her lip. "You were already Stunned when I got to the Longbottoms', so I know you didn't see what happened to dear old Bella. You loved her, didn't you?" she mocked.

"You don't know what love is," Barty spat. "Bella was going to leave Rodolphus for me. We were going to have a family together."

A laugh spilled from Violet's lips. "Bella loved you? Oh, you poor dear. She loved Voldemort, and him alone. You were a nice toy, something to fit between her legs in her spare time. And she never wanted children. She had me prepare a birth control potion every single month, like clockwork."

"You lie!" This time, he punched her chest, knocking the air from her lungs. "Bella adored me! We were going to be happy!" he screamed at her, nearly hysterical.

But not quite there yet. Violet let a, no doubt, bloody smile lift her lips. "You want to know what happened to her, Barty? You want to know how she died?"

"Tell me," he seethed, grabbing her face to keep her gaze on him.

"I killed her," she whispered slowly, deliberately pronouncing each syllable to drag each word out, while staring directly into his eyes. "I killed Bellatrix LeStrange. I turned that useless organ in her chest into its true form: stone."

Barty seemed frozen for a long moment, before screaming incoherently in rage. He screamed, he kicked the chair Violet sat on, he threw things, he pulled his hair. But when he turned his rage back to Violet, swinging his fist to hit her again, he was surprised when she caught it, ropes long gone.

"You see, Barty," she said, rather conversationally, as she stood up, pushing him backwards and stripping him of his wand. "You made a number of miscalculations in this little plan of yours. First, you thought I was nothing more than Rab's arm candy, not realizing I was using him all along. Second, you thought that because I was tied up and didn't have my wand, I couldn't do magic. Third, you forgot to take my wedding ring off me."

That last one threw him. "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked, still going for bravado, though wandless.

"Because, as long as I'm wearing it," Violet began, allowing the man to see the ring in question.

"I can find her."


	39. Chapter 39

Sherlock swept into the room, dragging a pudgy, unconscious man entirely wrapped in rope. "Sorry, I'm late, darling," he told his wife, throwing Pettigrew to the ground in front of Barty.

"Well, I don't need saving, but it's far more fun with you, my love," Violet replied.

"Black and Lupin should be here momentarily, then we can call Mycroft after we deal with the snake," Sherlock said, rather breezily, as the snake in question looked from him to his wife in confusion. "Now, Crouch, wasn't it? Please fight back. It's easier when they fight back, at least in the paperwork Mycroft makes me fill out."

"Wha-"

"They never do understand, do they? Oh well, we can say he fought back. We should hurry it up. Harry's getting a little worried, and Mummy can only distract him for so long," Sherlock told Violet. "Would you like the honors, darling?"

"Why don't we do it together, hmm? After all, he did give you a lethal dose of heroin, so I think you deserve this as much as I do."

"Together, then." A green light filled the room, and the last Crouch fell to the ground, dead.

"Vi! Sherlock!" Remus's voice floated down the hall, as did footsteps. He and Sirius burst into the room, wands drawn, but stopped short when they realized just what they were looking at.

"We'll leave you boys with the rat," Violet said, dropping Barty's wand next to him. "Mycroft's people should be here in a few minutes, so do hurry."

Sherlock took her hand, and they left the room, shutting the door behind them. There was some shouting, and some whimpering, then another green light spilled from beneath the doorway. "At least Vanish the ropes, boys," Violet called.

The door opened to two rather solemn faces. "We should have let you join in, Vi," Remus said, in an attempt at jollity. It failed, but the others were polite enough not to mention it. "You had just as much reason to want him dead as us."

"But he was your friend," she said softly. "And besides, we got Barty. That was enough for me. Now, when Mycroft's people come, remember, you came to help Sherlock rescue me, and in the subsequent fight, there was no other way. They resisted, and we were forced, under duress, to end their lives, something we were all terribly sorry for."

Each one of them parroted nearly those exact words to Mycroft, whose eyebrows lowered with every telling. "Yes, well, I don't suppose we could have expected either of them to be alive at the end of dealing with the four of you," he grumbled. "Violet, are you injured? Other than the obvious, I mean." He gestured to her face, and one of his minions scurried to his sister-in-law.

"No, I don't think so. Just bruising on my chest, and I've got something at home for that," she replied, after holding still for the minion to heal her.

"Good, I'd hate for my nephew to be worried when he sees you," Mycroft said. "At least, any more than he already is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go search the Crouch house. I suspect I'll have a mess on my hands once word gets out about this whole ordeal."

…

It took nearly two weeks for Harry to allow his adults to leave his eyesight. The poor little boy had been so concerned for his Auntie and Lock that he refused to be parted from them. He even spent most nights in their bed, cuddled between his two favourite adults, where they were in easy reach to reassure him that they were just fine, darling, each and every time he woke from a nightmare.

But after the fifth consecutive night of him sleeping in his own bed again, three weeks after Violet had been kidnapped, it was time to begin preparations for a trip to Albania. The preparations kept changing, since quite a lot of people kept adding themselves to them. "You're barmy, mate, but not stupid," John told Sherlock. "You had to know there was no way we'd let you two go off on your own."

They were planning in the lounge of the Holmes flat. It had started out with only Violet and Sherlock (Harry was making biscuits with Mrs. Hudson), but soon enough, the Watsons showed up. Ten minutes later, Cissa and Remus arrived, with Sirius trailing behind five minutes later.

"And just what exactly do you think you can do, John?" Sherlock asked, utterly exasperated with all their friends. He and Violet had planned on taking care of the problem by themselves, but clearly, that was no longer an option. "You haven't got magic."

"I do have a gun, and I'm rather handy with it, as you well know," John shot back. "I'm not letting my best mate go off to save the world alone. Again."

"You've got people who care about you, and we're not letting you do this by yourselves," Cissa added, calmly pouring tea for everyone.

Remus took his cup with a dark grin. "And besides, it's not like you're the only ones who want to kill the git. Vi already got to destroy the Horcruxes, after all."

"It's only fair if we get to help with this," Sirius grinned, utterly unrepentant.

So, it was decided that, three weeks later, the seven of them would travel to Albania together. But only after the rest of them wrenched a promise from Violet and Sherlock to not leave earlier, without anyone else. Plans were made for the children. All three would stay at Greengrass Castle, where there were other children for them to play with, plenty of space for them to play, and rather a lot of wards protecting those inside. Not to mention several capable adults with a stunningly vast array of spells in their repertoire, and a small army of house elves sworn to safeguard those in their care.

Those three weeks flew by, filled with loads of preparation, including getting international Portkeys to take two Muggles. Sure, Violet or Sherlock could easily do it themselves, but getting Mycroft to do it for them was far easier, not to mention far more legal.

The morning they planned to leave, the whole group arranged to meet at Greengrass Castle, where Mycroft would meet them and finally relinquish their Portkey. But the Baker Street Holmeses were having a bit of a rough morning.

"Darling, we'll only be gone for a few days, a week at the absolute most," Violet assured Harry, swallowing down the nausea her own displeasure over leaving him caused.

He didn't like that, any more than he had any of the previous times they'd tried explaining the necessity of them leaving. "Stay," he whined sadly, clinging to Violet's neck.

"We can't, darling," she whispered. "But we'll be back, and then we won't have to leave any more."

"I c'n go with," he mumbled.

"You get to stay with Astoria and Daphne," Sherlock tried, forcing as much cheer into his voice as possible. It wasn't much, as he wasn't happy about leaving Harry, either, but he did try. "You like them."

"Like you better." Harry burrowed further into Violet's neck, clinging to her with all the tenacity of a barnacle.

Both adults sighed, weary of the circuitous and oft repeated argument. "Harry, we need to go," Sherlock said again. Then, he lit upon a (hopefully) winning argument. "Do you remember my stories, the ones where I catch the bad guys?"

Harry removed himself from his aunt's neck, nodding seriously as he looked to Sherlock. "This is just like those stories, Harry. We have to go catch a bad guy so he won't ever hurt yo- anyone ever again. So, we need you to be brave and stay with Astoria and Daphne, and we'll go catch him and come back to you. Do you understand?"

The little boy nodded seriously, still not happy about the situation, but at least he was willing to let them leave him. "But you c'n't be gone longer than a week," he demanded.

"We promise," Violet replied, pressing a kiss to his unruly curls.

Quickly, while Harry was still reluctantly agreeable, Violet and Sherlock collected all their bags, then Apparated to Greengrass Castle. "There you are, 'Arry," Violet's Aunt Helene crooned the moment they all appeared. "The others are all waiting for you upstairs." She rather swiftly convinced him to give farewell hugs, not being above bribery at all. Then, with the promise of paints, and a lolly at lunch, she hustled him up the stairs and out of sight.

"I can't believe just how efficient she is," Mary sighed, a tinge of jealous longing colouring her words.

Cissa agreed. "She got Draco to go with her in less than a minute. And without him even pouting once."

"She is quite talented," Mycroft agreed, joining them all. He carried an enormous rubber duck, something Sherlock took immediate offense to.

"I will not use something so ridiculous as a Portkey, Mycroft," he started to argue.

But his brother cut him off. "Then you'll be staying in England. The Albanians would only agree to a Portkey if it was something conspicuous, something they could keep an eye on easily. So, it's either the duck, or you're staying home. Or flying the Muggle way."

The two had a brief staring contest, but Sherlock lost when he rolled his eyes. "Why in Merlin's name did you ever agree to something so utterly absurd?"

"To watch you squirm, of course," was Mycroft's answer, smug smirk lingering on his lips. "Now, it leaves in three minutes and forty-seven seconds. You'll all need to be touching it when it does."

"We know how to use a Portkey, Mycroft," Sherlock hissed.

"And be sure to not let go until you land," Mycroft continued, deftly ignoring his brother. "You'll be landing in the Albanian Ministry, of course, so please do try to avoid any international incidents while you're there."

"Thank you, Mycroft," Violet said, quickly cutting off any retort her husband might have given. "For everything."

"Hmm." Mycroft's mouth turned down at the hint of sentimentality, but Violet could see the pleased glint in his eye. "Someone had to arrange it, and it certainly couldn't have been left to Sherlock. One minute, twenty-three seconds now."

The group crowded around the rubber duck, making sure they each had hold of it. "Five, four, three, two, one." Just as Mycroft counted down, each member of the travelling party felt a sharp hook, just behind their navel, before spinning into oblivion.

Upon landing, each member took a moment to orient themselves. "Far too many of your modes of travel involve spinning, mate," John groaned, looking a bit green around the edges.

Surprisingly, Violet fared even worse. The tiny hint of nausea she'd been feeling all morning, about leaving Harry for so long, sprang into full being. She hardly had time to conjure a bucket before vomiting horribly.

After her heaving subsided, with Sherlock hovering somewhat uselessly around, Violet straightened and vanished the bucket. "So sorry about that," she said breezily, using a mouth-freshening charm on herself. "Anxiety over leaving Harry apparently doesn't agree with Portkey travel."


	40. Chapter 40

The Albanian official who met them stoically took the duck from them and, in limited English, informed them that they would get it back when their business was concluded. "It's not like that would stop us from getting home," Sherlock muttered in Violet's ear. She smirked and hushed him.

The five magical people were given temporary licenses to Apparate within the country, with far stricter consequences over what would happen if they were seen doing so in front of Muggles (other than those in their party, of course) than there ever were in England. All listened intently to the various instructions given, with the obvious exception of Sherlock, of course, who buried himself in his mind palace to further fine tune their course of action. He simply depended on Violet to keep him with the group.

Once free to leave the Albanian Ministry, the lot of them Apparated to the forest Violet had seen in Barty's mind. They set to work at once. Thanks to Mycroft's help (or, as Sherlock called it, interference), the Albanians had cast a Muggle-repelling charm on the whole of the forest and declared the place a no-go for all wizarding kind for the week, so there was no need to worry about hiding their magic or keeping themselves disguised.

"Alright, we need to stay vigilant," Violet reminded. "Who knows how powerful Riddle will be."

"Or what traps he's managed to set," Remus added grimly.

Sirius shook his head several times, transforming into his huge dog form on the last shake. Cissa petted him, laughing lowly when Padfoot snapped at the offending hand. "You know you like the pets, Padfoot, so quit pretending like you don't," Remus sighed at his friend.

"Are you sure you can do this, Remus?" Mary asked him. "You're looking awfully pale."

His answering smile was dark. "I've got six days until the full moon. I'll be fine. And besides, with the full moon so close, my senses are heightened, so I can help Pads with the scents. I'm more useful than usual this way."

"We didn't bring you because of that," Cissa snapped at him. "You're a brilliant wizard with a very in-depth knowledge of countering Dark curses. And you're family."

Remus pinked a bit at her words, looking a bit abashed, but Violet didn't give him time to respond. "After all this is done, I'll start working on the Wolfsbane potion for you. That'll help. But right now, we need to follow Sherlock and Sirius."

She pointed after the two, who were moving deeper into the forest, Sirius with his nose to the ground.

It wasn't long before they ran into the first dark creature. Or rather, Padfoot ran into it. Their little group has spread out some, each inspecting their section carefully. It was terribly unnerving, the silence surrounding them, no birds calling to one another, or fuzzy animals rustling through the undergrowth, or even wind blowing through the branches. Until Padfoot's piercing howl broke that silence, sending six other hearts into throats.

Everyone converged on Sirius's position, where he was huddled on the ground back in his human form. "No no no no no no no no, please no" he whined, covering his head with his hands as he shook.

The object of his distress was apparent right away. The black cloaked figure slowly made its way toward Sirius, but stopped when the others got closer. "Pads, it's not a dementor," Remus was quick to assure his friend, casting a quick "Riddikulus!" without even looking before dropping next to Sirius. "It's a boggart," he continued lowly, rummaging with one hand in his bag while wrapping the other arm around Sirius. "Not a dementor." He shoved chocolate in Sirius's mouth anyway.

"But there might be some further in," Violet pointed out regrettably. "We shouldn't go any further alone. Any of us," she said, words aiming for her husband rather forcibly.

He actually agreed without any argument, probably after remembering his best friend had no recourse against most dark creatures. After all, a bullet didn't do much to some of them, other than further anger them.

The three women went together, Remus and Sirius paired off, and Sherlock dragged John deeper into the trees. Half an hour past before the next obstacle appeared: a trio of hags the ladies easily disposed of. Apparently, bullets did work on hags. Sherlock and John ran into a troop of grindylows less than fifteen minutes later, to which Sherlock's response was setting them all on fire. With Fiendfyre. John's solution was nearly as overly dramatic, shooting each one that came near him several times in the head.

"We should stay close to each other," Cissa suggested, after Remus and Sirius ran into a young troll. "Our strength is in our numbers, and it'll be easier to watch each other's backs with all of us together."

Everyone agreed, some more readily than others, and they continued forward in a group. Sherlock may have tended to be in front of the rest, but he did make sure to stay in eyesight. His wife would have taken his head off otherwise, and it was a good thing he did, since he suddenly dropped to the ground. "Sherlock!" Violet screamed, running full pelt toward the spot where he'd fallen. She screamed again when she realized what had attacked him, wordlessly setting the Inferi on fire.

The other magicals joined in, pushing the small army of the dead back away from Sherlock. "You are not allowed to die on me, Sherlock," Violet warned, dropping next to him to assess any wounds.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he huffed, bringing a small smile to her lips.

Cissa shoved her way next to Sherlock, as did John. "You've never been much good at healing spells, Vi. Not everything is fixed by simply dumping dittany on it," she reminded, shooing her friend away. "Although, this would probably be one of those times it would work," she added slowly, after a moment of inspection.

Mary was already digging in the bag with the medical supplies for the dittany before Cissa had even finished speaking. Cissa cleaned the long scratches down Sherlock's legs with a wave of her wand, then carefully dripped several drops of the oil on each wound.

"I wish I could use that in my practice," John sighed in awe as the skin knitted itself together in front of his eyes.

"I'm sure we could figure something out," Sherlock replied, distractedly repairing his trousers. "Nothing straight, of course, need to dilute it with-"

But his ruminations were interrupted by Violet running off behind a tree to vomit. Violently. When she returned, she looked rather mortified. "I've never had a problem with blood before. Terribly sorry about that."

"You've also never been pregnant before," John quipped, standing and dusting off his knees. At the sudden silence his announcement brought, he looked up with a startled grin. "You didn't know? A change in gag reflex, along with vomiting, and you've been married for how many months? There's a high probability that you're pregnant, Vi. I'm just happy to be the one to point it out."

The rest of the group still stared at him in shock. "I'm pregnant?" Violet questioned, feeling terribly slow. "I'm going to have a baby?"

"I can't be sure, of course, not without a test, but-"

Sherlock cut John off unconsciously, rapidly listing off her symptoms. "Unusual motion sickness, sensitivity to blood, disappearing appetite, elevated moods-"

"My moods have not been elevated!" she protested hotly, then blushed a bit.

"You're pregnant," Sherlock said, eyes wide as he stared at her.

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, in quiet disbelief.

But it turned into laughing happiness when Sherlock swept her up in his arms. "Merlin, Vi, you're brilliant," he laughed, kissing her. "We're going to have a baby! I hope she looks just like you. But with my brain."

"What if she's got my brain and your looks?" Vi countered, unable to keep the smile from her face, even as he kept her aloft in his arms.

"What if she's a boy?" Sirius butted in, a teasing grin covering up the slight pang he felt.

Both Holmeses looked to him, identical scoffs and scowls. "She's a girl," they replied in unison.

"She's a girl, I get it," he said, hands thrown up in surrender.

As the couple turned back to each other, Sirius turned to the others. "Ten galleons says it's a boy."

"I'm not stupid enough to go against both of them, Pads, you're on," Remus accepted with a wry grin. "Or you could just buy me ten galleons' worth of Honeyduke's finest when I win."

"And he will," Cissa promised. "Vi knew Draco was a boy the moment I told her I was pregnant."

"Yeah, between the two of them, there's a high probability they're right," John added.

Mary grinned. "Now, if they'd disagreed, I'm not sure who I would have gone with."


	41. Chapter 41

Just as Sherlock set Violet down, a chill came over the tiny clearing where they stood. "We're getting close," he told the others, keeping a firm hand on his wife's.

The dementors drifting into the clearing answered John's question of how he knew before it was even asked. Instead, he asked, "What the bloody hell are those?"

"Real dementors," Remus said shortly, a fully corporeal Patronus wolf emerging from the tip of his wand.

"Basically, they eat your happiness and then your soul," Cissa added. A few silver puffs shot from her wand, before a giant cobra erupted into the air.

"You don't believe in stereotypes or anything," Sirius teased his cousin wanly, valiantly ignoring the tremors that overtook him. It took several tries for him, but once Cissa wrapped her arm around his, he was able to cast his giant dog, though it was a bit more opaque than the others.

Violet and Sherlock stood side by side, holding each other's hands. The Patronus charm was one of the few that they both struggled with, but looking at each other, and at their friends around them, and remembering Harry, and Rosie, and Draco, and everything they were fighting for, a jaguar and wolf hound burst into being. Violet reminded herself of the first time Harry had told her he loved her, and marrying Sherlock, and becoming his wife, and the new little life they had created, the one she would do anything to protect. Powered by these fiercely happy thoughts, her jaguar glowed brighter and brighter, literally burning the nearest dementors. The rest fled, taking their chill with them.

"It won't be much farther now," Sherlock said grimly, pulling his wife closer to him.

Their group silently and warily moved forward, keeping a close eye on their surroundings. But the woods stayed quiet, the only sounds the snapping of twigs under foot.

Mary was the one to alert them to the newest problem. "That's far too many snakes to be natural," she said calmly, though her hasty retreat to regroup with the others belied that a bit.

The snakes she referred to were a writhing, unnaturally silent knot in a small clearing, with some bushes somewhat camouflaging them. There were hundreds, of several different varieties, none of which would cohabitate under their own volition. "Riddle always did have an affinity with snakes," Violet said, distaste colouring her words. "The poor dears must be charmed somehow."

"And just how do you suggest we deal with them?" John asked. His gun hand came up a bit, not about to fire, but ready when the word was spoken.

"We could set them all on fire," Sirius replied, looking at the snakes like they had each and every one of them done him a personal insult.

"No!" Violet and Cissa both scolded. "It's not their fault," Cissa added, lightly smacking her cousin's shoulder.

"They aren't dark creatures," Sherlock added, inspecting the area surrounding the clearing carefully. "None of them, with the exception of that one."

He pointed to a huge snake, one much larger than the others in the clearing. It kept in the middle of those around it, making it rather hard to distinguish from the others, but once spotted, it stuck out, drawing the eye. It was still, not writhing and wriggling like its mates, acting very much not like a snake at all.

"We haven't crossed the wards yet," Sherlock began, for once actually explaining to the others without being asked. "But once we do, the snakes will attack. They've already begun to notice us," he added, pointing to where the snakes closest to them began to move to a striking pose. Those on the far side of the clearing headed to join their fellows.

"Can we bring the wards down? And would that make the snakes attack, or would it break the enchantment on them?" Remus asked quietly, casting a few diagnostic spells as he went.

"He's weak," Violet murmured, struggling for once to use her Legilimency. After all, a snake mind was rather different than a human's, and Riddle had spent the last three years living out of whatever snake he could possess. "Riddle's weak, his magic fractured. It's not a ward, not really, just a charm to keep the snakes inside the clearing. He's used his Parseltongue to convince them all to attack anything that enters. And- No!"

"What is it?" Sherlock was at her side in an instant, eyes wide as he searched for whatever could be causing her distress.

"The snake, she's a Maledictus," she said quietly, sorrowfully.

"A what?" John asked, echoed by Remus and Mary.

"I thought they'd all died out, centuries ago," Sirius said confusedly.

"In Western Europe, possibly," Cissa replied, then turned to the other three. "A Maledictus is a human, or was, one with a blood curse causing them to take animal form. At first, they can control the change, much like Sirius with his animagus form, but eventually, they lose that control and the beast takes over permanently. It's passed from mother to daughter, and a cure's never been found."

"She hates Riddle," Violet murmured, still delving into the mind of the cursed woman. "She wants nothing more than to be free of him, but he's still too powerful for her. And since she's a Maledictus, she's far more suited to being his host than any ordinary snake. We've got to free her. We've got to get him out of her."

Sherlock shook his head slowly. "I- I don't know how without killing her. Every attempt to rescue someone possessed has ended with their death, and not always with the death of the possessor. We can't risk it, love. We can't let Riddle out."

Perhaps she was feeling more sensitive due to her pregnancy, but Violet's heart broke at the thought. "You've been so brave," she told the snake woman, seeing her memories of wrenching short-term control back from Riddle to keep away from humans. "I wish there was more we could do to help you."

She gasped, tears springing to her eyes as a sense of deep peace flooded over her, coming from the woman trapped as a snake. "Cissa, Sirius, Remus, when I cross the boundary, shield us from the rest of the snakes. Mary, John, stay back, I don't want you to get hurt by this. Sherlock, I need you with me."

As the others rushed to follow her orders, Violet saw the giant snake shaking, nearly vibrating, as the two souls trapped inside fought for control of the body. Stepping forward into the clearing, she wordlessly pushed the smaller snakes aside, trusting her friends to keep her safe from any strikes. She felt more than saw Sherlock follow her, knowing without any doubt that he would help her with what was coming.

Just as they reached the center with the giant snake now alone, Riddle seized control, lurching forward gracelessly to attack the incoming humans. But control was wrested away, stopping the body just short of Violet's feet. She quickly froze the snake, bending down to speak to it directly. "Tom Riddle, I can see that you remember me. I'm glad. I want you to know just who has caused you to meet your end. You dared to threaten my family, kill my baby sister and her wonderful husband, and tried to murder my nephew, a harmless, defenseless baby. And now, you won't hurt another soul again."

Straightening, Violet took Sherlock's waiting hand. Each with wand in hand, they quickly said the most feared words known to wizardkind: "Avada Kedavra."

Green light lit up the clearing, eerily highlighting the black shadow that rose from the snake body. But it was quickly overpowered by a clear, white light, one that gave off a sense of peace and serenity. "Thank you, Nagini," Violet whispered, nearly overwhelmed with gratitude for the assistance she had given. "You can finally be at peace."


	42. Chapter 42

"So, is he gone? Riddle?" John asked, as Violet and Sherlock carefully picked their way back to their friends.

"Yes, he is," Violet said, a triumphant grin painted across her face. "I made sure that we'd gotten all the Horcruxes before we killed him. He's gone."

"He's gone." Remus said it blankly, almost as if he couldn't quite fathom it.

"He's gone," Cissa repeated, her own smile blooming as an invisible weight lifted from her shoulders.

"He's gone!" Sirius shouted, sending up several gold sparks into the air in his lightheartedness.

"He's gone," Sherlock whispered, pulling Violet close. "And Harry's safe from him forever."

"And we'll make sure he's safe from everyone else until he can take care of himself," Violet replied, grinning almost manically. What they'd all been working towards for over six months was now over. And their family was safe.

"That's great, that he's gone, it really is," John said, sounding a bit nervous. "But what do we do about all these snakes?"

The magical people were torn a bit from their revels to look at their surroundings once again. The snakes, no longer bound by Riddle, were evacuating the clearing in droves, mostly avoiding the humans. It was the few who didn't that worried John.

"Head to the hotel," Sherlock instructed everyone, grabbing John while Violet headed to Mary. Five barely discernable cracks sounded, leaving the clearing free of humans once again. The snakes would have to find another source of food.

The group landed in the lobby of a hotel, where they were greeted by the receptionist, who didn't even bat an eye at their sudden arrival. "This is a magical hotel, then," John said, looking around him with wonder.

"One of the few in Tirana," Violet answered. Sherlock was speaking rapidly with the receptionist in Albanian, getting their rooms for the night. "Since it's late, and the Ministry closes soon, we can stay the night here and then go home in the morning."

"And I can take another look at Sherlock's legs, make sure everything is healing right," John added.

Mary smirked a bit knowingly. "I think I'd like a shower. We just spent the day tramping through the woods, and it shows. I think you've carried half the woods back with you, love," she told John, picking several leaves from his jumper.

Sherlock joined them all and dispensed the room keys. It was decided that they would all get cleaned up, before heading back downstairs for dinner. Together, they made their way to their floor, where Mycroft had arranged rooms for them. Rather, he'd booked the entire floor for them, as an extra safety precaution, though he didn't bother to tell his little brother.

Once in the privacy of their own room, Violet turned to her husband. "I think this is probably the fourth best day of my life," she said, just before kissing him soundly.

"Ridding the world of the most evil man alive and finding out that we're going to be parents isn't enough to make first?" he laughed, kissing her neck as he worked at the buttons on her blouse.

"Getting Harry," she began breathlessly, voice hitching as he sucked on her pulse point. "Realizing you love me. Marrying you. But I think they're all tied for first, really."

"Let's see what I can do to boost this day up the ranks a bit," Sherlock growled.

They finally made their way downstairs to meet the others for dinner, ignoring the telling looks their friends gave them as Sherlock held Violet's chair for her. "I do believe a toast is in order," she said, holding her glass of water up. "To ridding the world of evil, one horrible person at a time."

"Here, here!" the group agreed, all feeling a bit giddy with success.

…

The next morning, everyone gathered in the dining room again for a quick breakfast, though Violet didn't dare eat anything. "If I'm about to take an international Portkey again, I'd better not," she said firmly, after Sherlock tried to get her to eat something. "I'd really rather not lose it in front of Mycroft."

One trip to the Ministry later saw them all gathered around the giant rubber duck once more. "I still can't believe Mycroft," Sherlock grumbled, just as the Ministry official counted down to one. A tug at the navel, some spinning, and then they all jolted to a stop in Mycroft's office.

"You're back so soon," he said, his haughty tone almost covering the worry. Almost.

"Riddle's gone," Violet replied, then swallowed sharply, several times. "We're going to get the children now, send you the official report later." She then hurried to the fireplace, threw the Floo powder in, and vanished to Greengrass Castle before she could embarrass herself in front of her brother-in-law.

"Missy Violet!" a tiny squeak was heard through Violet's dry heaving. "Missy Violet is sick!"

"Not sick, Mokey. I'll be alright. Where's Harry?"

"Master Harry is eating in the Sun Room with Mistress and the other children," Mokey replied, snapping her fingers to get the soot off Violet as she had done since Violet had been very little.

The rest of the group arrived behind Violet, and together they headed to the children. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, but Violet was desperate to have her boy in her arms again, now that he was truly safe. And since she had something in particular to tell him.

A slight change to the Sun Room had been made since last Violet had seen it. A new table had been added, one fit for the five small children seated around it. Madame Greengrass sat in a normal-sized chair, but very close to the children, listening to whatever Astoria was explaining to them all.

Until a sharp "Mummy! Dad!" broke through. Harry was up from his seat like a shot, nearly blurring in his haste to reach Violet and Sherlock. Or that might have been the sudden tears his words brought to Violet's eyes. No matter. She raced forward, dropping to her knees as she reached her boy.

"Oh, my darling!" she murmured, over and over, as she and Sherlock hugged the little boy in their arms.

Similar reunions were taking place with the other children, but Violet could only focus on Harry. Especially when he froze. "Is okay if I call you Mummy and Dad?" he asked quietly, so quietly they were the only ones to hear.

"Yes, my darling, you can call me Mummy," Violet laughed through her tears.

"It makes you sad?" he asked, confused in the way only a child could be.

"It makes us very happy," Sherlock answered, pressing a kiss to his messy curls. Harry responded by throwing his arms around his adults once more, laughing happily.

The three of them straightened up, though without letting go of one another. Violet and Sherlock shared a quick look, to which Sherlock nodded. Taking a deep breath, Violet said, loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear, "We have some good news we wanted to tell you, Harry."

"You gotted the bad guy!" he guessed happily.

"Well, yes, but something else," Sherlock laughed.

"What could be better than that?" Draco demanded, from Remus's hip.

The adults in the know grinned. "This is far better, at least in my opinion," Violet replied, sending her godson a wink. "Sherlock and I… are going to have a baby."

Madame Greengrass gasped, then promptly burst into tears. The children had mixed reviews, but Harry's response was the best. "Am I gonna be a cousin or a brother?"


	43. Chapter 43

Epilogue

The Wolfsbane simmered beautifully, and Violet leaned back against the counter to watch it. It seemed that her changes the month before had worked, but now it was time to test them again.

A knock on the door brought her out of her musings. She pushed herself up, then walked around the corner. The person waiting for her was quite possibly the last she'd expected. "Professor, what a pleasant surprise! Won't you come in?"

"Thank you, Violet. I'm sorry to drop in unexpected like this. I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." McGonagall's slight burr came out a bit more than her usual during the school year. She must have visited her family, Violet thought absently.

"Nothing that can't wait, of course." Violet waved her hand to cast the stasis charm on the potion, then picked up the tea kettle. "Would you care for some tea? And I do believe that we've still got some of Mrs. Hudson's shortbread left from yesterday."

"Well, I wouldn't turn that down."

The two women settled down with their tea cups and small talk. But after discussing Harry (playing at the Longbottoms), Sherlock (on a case with John), and Hogwarts (in for rather a lot of changes come September), Violet set her tea cup down. "I know you didn't come for a social call, Professor, so why don't you tell me just what you did come for."

A rare smile quirked McGonagall's lips. "Straight forward then, as usual. As you know, Professor Dumbledore has decided to retire, since the threat of Voldemort has been so handily taken care of. The school governors have asked me to become the new Headmistress. As such, I plan on making a few changes. I've just come from Black House, where both Remus and Sirius have agreed to teach next year, Defense Against the Dark Arts for Remus, and Transfiguration for Sirius."

"Oh, that's lovely!" Violet gushed, happy for her friends. But she knew that wasn't why her old teacher had come to visit.

And McGonagall knew it. "Yes, I think they will be brilliant teachers. And since Riddle is taken care of, I do believe his jinx on the Defense post will be taken care of, as well. But on to you. Severus Snape has been teaching Potions for the past four years. But he isn't… the most personable teacher. I was hoping I could convince you to take the post, instead."

Violet's hands slipped to her rounded belly, almost without thought. "I've got my children to think of, and I couldn't expect Sherlock to watch them by himself. Not to mention, they would see far too many dead bodies that way."

"We'd be willing to work with you, of course. You are the best Potioneer to pass through Hogwarts in years, along with Lily, and don't think your tutoring of the younger years escaped my notice."

"Nothing ever did," Violet laughed.

In the end, McGonagall agreed to wait until the baby started primary school. "I could do some tutoring in the evenings and weekends, probably. And I will keep supplying Remus with the Wolfsbane," Violet assured. "I can't trust Snape to not poison him."

"To be honest, I'm not sure I blame you."

…

"Come say hello to your little sister, Harry," Sherlock said gently, lifting the boy to his lap so he could see the tiny bundle in Violet's arms.

Harry sat for a long moment, entirely intent on the new arrival, who slept blissfully unaware of his scrutiny. "She's so little," he finally said, looking as though there was something wrong. "She's too little, Mummy."

"Because she's smaller than Rosie, you mean?" Violet guessed, knowing her son well. He did tend to measure the world against his Rosemud. But he nodded, and she explained, "It's because Camellia's younger than Rosie. Rosie's two now, and Camellia was just born last night."

"It's like how Daphne's bigger than Astoria, since she's older," Sherlock continued, using a frame of reference the boy could understand.

"Oh, okay," Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose to peer at his sister better. Just then, she yawned, and then opened her eyes. Camellia looked directly up at her big brother, and then grinned. The adults knew it was probably gas, or some other reflex, but for Harry, it was a triumph. "She smiled at me, Mummy! Dad, did you see that! Hello, Camellia! I'm your big brother, Harry, but you can call me Ree. Tha's what Rosemud calls me, and you can, too. I'll teach you loads, and we can play together, and pull pranks on th' uncles, and I'll make sure you're always safe, 'cause tha's what big brothers do. Tha's what Uncle Moft said, and he would know, he's Dad's big brother."

…

"I'm torn between wanting to do something like you and Sherlock, just quick and dirty to get it done with, and having the most over the top wedding Wizarding society has ever seen," Cissa sighed, playing with the simple ring on her third finger. It suited her far better than the gaudy monstrosity Lucius had given her. "On the one hand, what on earth has anyone else done to deserve getting to be a part of our wedding? But on the other, I don't want Remus to get the wrong idea."

"Like somehow you're ashamed of him?" Violet asked knowingly.

"Exactly. That man has the worst self-esteem issues I've ever seen, and I grew up in the Black House. Honestly, a part of me wants to keep just living together, keep him as sort of a kept man, just to thumb my nose at the whole ridiculousness of society and their rules. But I know if I tried something like that, he would take it to mean that I'm ashamed of him, or that I don't think he's good enough to marry."

Violet nodded, thinking for a moment. Until a wicked grin crossed her lips. "So, we make it the most exclusive event of the year. Everyone will know about it, it'll be all over the Prophet and Witch Weekly, even the Quibbler, if we can swing it, but only invite those you actually want to be there. It'll be perfect!"

…

"Now, remember love, at school, you can't call the uncles Moony and Padfoot," Violet reminded, straightening Harry's tie for the fourth time in the last half hour.

"But you could probably get away with Professor Padfoot," Sherlock added with a grin.

"Does that mean I have to call you Professor Holmes?" Harry asked, identical grin crossing his face. "Or should it be Professor Mum?"

"If you want to," Violet conceded.

Remus pulled his little family over to the Holmes bunch. "Neville's saved the boys a compartment, and it's time for them to get on the train," he said, hand resting lightly on Draco's shoulder. Cissa bookended Draco on the other side, holding Leo's hand tightly. The little boy had a remarkable tendency to wander off, usually taking Camellia with him.

"Time for last hugs," Cissa demanded, and Draco responded. Harry did the same, though both Hogwarts students teased their teacher parents for it.

"I'll see you tonight at the Sorting," Harry laughed.

"It won't even be a whole day," Draco added.

"Yes, well, every other parent gets to say goodbye at the train, so I get to, as well," Violet replied, adding a big sloppy kiss to Harry's cheek in retaliation.

Sherlock and Remus helped the boys get their trunks on the train, then the boys, along with Neville, popped out the window to wave as the train pulled away. "Five galleons they both get Slytherin," Cissa said, after making sure Leo and Camellia were distracted with chasing the train for as long as they could.

"Harry'll be Gryffindor," Remus said, seconded by Violet, reluctantly.

"At least he'll have Sirius as his Head," Sherlock reminded her.

"Which never ceases to amaze me. I'm still not sure what McGonagall was thinking, put him in charge of a whole House like that," Cissa said, jokingly shaking her head in amazement.

…

"I can't believe Rosie's a Fourth Year," John sighed as the train pulled away.

"The boys are Seventh Years," Cissa complained. "I swear, it was just yesterday that they started at Hogwarts."

"Between the three of them, we've got Head Boy and two prefects, though. That's something to be proud of," Remus reminded.

"And yet, Rosie and Cam still have those boys wrapped around their little fingers," Violet laughed.

Sherlock smirked. "They just know it's best to listen to strong-willed women."

…

"I told you there was no one better for Rosie than Harry," Sherlock whispered in Violet's ear. She'd just danced with the groom, and managed to keep her tears at bay the entire time, but now that she was back in Sherlock's arms, she couldn't hold them back any longer.

"And you were right, of course," she beamed up at him. "And now you and John are officially related, sort of."

"Who knew when they married that our son would marry their daughter?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if our daughter followed suit soon enough."

Sherlock glowered. "Neville had better ask me before he asks her."

Violet laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "He's a good boy. He knows better. And besides, he had Harry as a guide in what to do when proposing."

"You know Draco's going to propose to the Granger girl tonight. He's got the ring in his pocket."

"He could do far worse than someone who constantly pushes him, challenges him."

"He couldn't do any better than someone like that. I would know, after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the end of it all! I will be posting a few oneshots under the title Knightly Additions today, but this is the end of the road really for Violet and Sherlock. Thanks for reading, and especially thanks to all those who review. Reviews make me so happy!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new the AO3 community, but crossposting this from fanfiction.net, as I've had several people suggest that I do so. I usually update on Sundays, so the next chapter will be coming out tomorrow. Thanks for reading!


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